


Same Time, Next Year

by Cheburashka2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: AU, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 63,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1238515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheburashka2/pseuds/Cheburashka2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU past the pilot. Brian and Justin go their separate ways after their first night together, both thinking that that was it for them. Fate, however, has other plans and keeps throwing the boys together around the same time once a year. Will they listen to Fate and to their hearts, or will they go their separate ways in the end?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

 

**_Thursday, August 24th, 2000..._ **

Justin couldn't believe Brian was treating him this way, that he had rejected him. He was sure, so sure that once he showed up at the loft, Brian wouldn't be able to resist and they would spend another incredible night together, but it looked like he was just fooling himself. He was leaning on a lamppost, trying to keep it together, trying so hard not to cry, when the front door to the apartment building opened and it was Brian walking towards him. Justin just couldn't take the humiliation; his only thought was to get away as fast as possible and he took off towards Daphne's car.

“Hey, hey!” Brian shouted and came after him at a run, “I just left a complete stranger alone in my apartment so don't run away when I'm trying to talk to you! We need to get something straight....”

“You don't do boyfriends,” Justin said whirling around.

“Ah, Mickey's been talking to you.”

“You'll fuck anyone!” It was Justin's turned to shout. The words ripped out of him and there was pain in his voice and unshed tears shining in his eyes. “He's ugly! You don't even know him. And I...” suddenly, his voice faltered, “I really lo..”

“Justin,” Brian interrupted.

“..ve..”

“I've had you. What happened last night was for fun, you wanted me and I wanted you. That's all it was,” He explained almost gently, his voice a weird combination of kindness, annoyance and condescension.

Although Justin could see in Brian's eyes complete honesty and could hear in his voice that it was exactly what Brian had believed, something deep down in his soul rebelled at the thought of being nothing but a trick to this man; that elusive  _something_  stubbornly clung to the tiny smidgen of hope that he shouldn't take the words at face value, that Brian was wrong. Hoping beyond reason that Brian would contradict it he asked, “A fuck?”

“What did you think it was?” Brian answered in a pitying tone that was breaking Justin's heart, “Look, I don't believe in love. I believe in fucking. It's honest, it's efficient. You get in and out with the maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit. Love is something straight people tell themselves they are in in order to get laid, and then they end up hurting each other because it was based on lies to begin with. If that's what you want then go and find yourself a pretty little girl and get married.”

“I don't want that, I want you,” Justin pleaded.

“You can't have me, I am to ol....You are too young for me. You are 17, I'm 28.”

“29!”

“OK, 29 - even more reason. Now, go...do your homework!”

At those words Justin burst into tears, not caring anymore whether or not Brian saw them, got into the car and drove off, hardly seeing the road in front of him.

Brian watched him drive away with a touch of regret, thinking that maybe he should have broken his “no repeats” rule just this once. The kid after all was an absolutely phenomenal fuck, especially for a virgin. After he got over the initial fear and pain that went along with having sex for the very fist time, he was so incredibly eager to learn, so willing to please, so wonderfully responsive, so amazingly joyful when giving and receiving pleasure, so surprisingly uninhibited that he blew away Brian's jaded mind, not to mention almost wore him out.

As soon as Brian realized the nature of his almost nostalgic thoughts about the previous night with Justin, he decided that letting the kid go was absolutely the right thing to do before he turned into a total lesbian. So he ruthlessly pushed those thoughts and any unwanted feeling of regret out of his mind. 

 _“I will not think of last night or of him,”_  he ordered himself,  _“August 23_ _rd_ _has no meaning to me whatsoever. Well...I'll think of Gus being born, but that's it – nothing and no one else matters!”_

Brian decisively walked into his building, then into his loft and proceeded to ruthlessly reaffirm his self-imposed rules of no repeats, no apologies and no regrets into the not so tight ass of Mr. George “Goodfuck.”

~*~*~*~


	2. Pittsburgh

**_Thursday, August 24th, 2000... Continued..._ **

Justin drove to Daphne's crying the whole way. He was humiliated, angry at himself and at Brian, and most of all heartbroken. He parked the car and even though he knew that Daphne's parents weren't home yet from the charity dinner they were attending, went around towards the back yard and climbed the trellis up to Daphne's bedroom window on the second floor. She still had it unlocked like she usually did when expecting his visit. To his immense relief Daphne herself wasn't in her room. He eased the bedroom door open and heard the shower on in the bathroom directly across her room. It looked like she was getting ready for bed; it was well after 10 P.M. after all. Grateful for having a little more alone time, Justin composed himself with difficulty.

He used Daphne's moist make-up remover wipes that he found on her dresser to soothe his face and eyes. He blew his nose with the lotion enhanced tissues Daphne liked, but he actually hated, thinking that his pathetic appearance needed all the help it could get. He took a be-feathered, be-glittered purple fan from its place of honor in the corner of her dresser mirror, lay down on Daphne's bed and began to frantically fan his face that was still slightly puffy and red from crying.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to re-claim that thing.” Daphne said from the doorway, a slight smile on her face, her hair falling around her face in wet ringlets and wearing a plushy-looking robe in a shade of pink so intense it was almost violent.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Justin asked in confusion.

“The fan, Justin, the fan.” She chuckled. “You begging your mother to buy me a feathery, glittery, purple fan for my birthday should've been the first clue to your sexual orientation.”

“I was five Daph!” Justin exclaimed, completely outraged, until he realized that she was just joking. It looked like she didn't fall for his attempts to compose himself and was trying to make him feel better with humor, although unsuccessfully.

“What happened with Brian, Jus?” She asked quietly, as she lay down on the bed beside him and grabbed his left hand with her right for support.

“I was just a fuck to him, nothing more. I feel so stupid, Daph! When he said that he loved me right as he came I actually believed it...”

He told Daphne what had just happened at the loft and the scene right outside it. He left nothing out - not Brian's expressions, not his tone, not his words. Justin was full of despair and sadness, but for some reason, he was able to recount the events without tears and with a composure he didn't really feel. He talked for half an hour remembering the absolute high of the previous night in minute detail and the absolute low that was the conversation outside the loft less than an hour before. Daphne let him talk without interrupting, even though she has already heard the tale of Justin's “deflowering” three times already and probably knew it by heart. When he was done talking, she caressed his shoulder soothingly with her left hand and quietly asked,

“So, what now?”

“No idea.” He answered.

“You could go after him – go to all the bars and clubs that he goes to. Be everywhere he is, so he can't avoid you...” Daphne suggested.

“No way, Daph!” Justin interrupted vehemently. “No fucking way. I've humiliated myself enough in front of him. I cried in front of him, like an immature, weak little faggot! God, what must he think of me?”

“So you cried, so what? It just shows that you are more in touch with your emotions, which doesn't make you immature, weak or a faggot! I take exception to you calling my best friend in the entire world that, by the way, so kindly cease and desist!” She said in a prim tone and playfully slapped his hand, making him laugh for the first time that night. “What do you want, Justin?”

“What do I want? Truthfully?” He asked, looking her in the eyes. Daphne nodded and he continued. “I want  _him_. I want Brian, body and soul. I feel something for him deep down, Daph, I can't explain it... and it's not just because he was my first. It may be unbelievable, impossible, unimaginable, immature, stupid, whatever you or anybody else says, but I am in love with him! Completely...” He ended on a soul-rending sigh.

“Then why does it sound like you are giving up on him, if you are so in love?” Daphne asked.

“Because it doesn't matter. I may be in love with him, but Brian sure as hell isn't in love with me. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even like me. Besides, he doesn't want me anymore; he made that abundantly clear. To him I'm just some stupid kid that was lucky to have had him for a first fuck. I'm just another trick, just another fuck to him, Daph. I bet you anything that he has already forgotten me...”

“I very much doubt it!” she protested.

“Thanks, Daphne. Really, thanks, but if he hasn't forgotten me by now, he will by the weekend.”

“So, don't let him forget about you, like I said...”

“No.” Justin interrupted firmly. “I won't stalk him or beg him for another fuck like I did tonight. It was humiliating enough. No, Daph, I won't run after him like some puppy. I'll try to save what little pride I've got left.”

“So, what now?”

“Now, I'll get ready for bed. Thanks for letting me crash here tonight, for letting me borrow your car and for listening.”

“You are welcome. What are friends for? But I was asking more in general, you know, about the rest of your love life?”

“Well, I am not a fortune teller, but I'm going to do my best to get over Brian Kinney, even though I will never forget August 23rd, 2000 for as long as I live. While I am getting over Brian Kinney I _will not_  go to Liberty Avenue or any of the bars and clubs there because I might see Brian Kinney, which will not be a good thing for my pride, my sanity, not to mention my heart. Once I've sufficiently gotten over Brian Kinney, I will take his advice and try the 'maximum of pleasure, minimum of bullshit' routine...”

“Oh, come on, Justin! Are you really thinking of turning into a promiscuous whore like him?” Daphne was genuinely disgusted.

“Brian Kinney isn't a whore, he just doesn't believe in relationships of any kind other than friendship. And Brian's honest, so I can't fault him for that. I just didn't understand him until it was too late. As for being promiscuous, no, I am not planning to turn into Brian Kinney. I just think that he's right – I am way too young to get into a serious relationship. I am 17 years old, for fuck's sake! I should play the field a bit, figure out what I want first before getting serious with anyone.” Justin said, trying to sound as certain as possible, though even to his own ears none of that sounded sincere. “If Brian Kinney wanted me though, I would say fuck it and give him my all, but he doesn't... so, maximum pleasure, minimum bullshit it is, until I know what I want in a guy, in a relationship. I'll be just as honest as Brian Kinney, except I'll be honest from the start. AND I will definitely do repeats, 'cause 'no repeats' is kind of a stupid rule, don't you think?”

“Yeah, especially if the guy is good.” Daphne agreed sagely.

“So speaks the virgin.” Justin laughed.

“Hey!” She slapped him on the hand again indignantly, then laughed with him. “I just haven't met a guy I want to give it up to, so no making fun of the virgin, please!”

“Speaking of virgins, I think I'll stay away from them.” Justin said thoughtfully.

“Why?”

“Daph, did you not see how I reacted to Brian? I definitely don't want some twink falling in love with me after having sex for the first time.”

“So speaks the twink.” She laughed, then smirked, “By the way, confident much?”

“Daph, Brian Kinney fucked me several times throughout the night, let me stay overnight, than fucked me once again in the morning and said that I almost wore him out. If I wasn't good, Brian Kinney would have gotten rid of me after we did it the first time. So, I know I'm good, OK? I don't know how or why, but after the first time, it's like I knew exactly what he wanted, exactly what to do. It all felt so right, it's like I was designed specifically for his body... God, he was incredible and I felt incredible with him! Maybe it was just because it was my first time, but I really don't think that's the case. I truly don't know if I'll ever feel like that with anyone else, but I'd better stay away from virgins, in case they feel anything remotely like that being with me.”

“Don't you want to fall in love someday, Jus?”

“Already did. It may sound melodramatic, but I don't think I'll ever be able to fall in love with anyone else. Not like that, I won't. I just hope that I'll get over Brian Kinney, so that I'll be able to love, just plain love someone else someday.”

“Why do you keep saying his name, Justin? I've lost count the number of times you said Brian Kinney. It was at least ten times. And that's not counting the number of times you used just his first name.”

Justin got out of bed, stood straight up and put his right hand over his heard and solemnly declared,“I keep saying his name because as of tomorrow morning I resolve to start getting over Brian Kinney - meaning a complete moratorium on talking about, thinking about, mentioning and in all other ways obsessing about his name, his person, his body – oh God, his body! - and the one and only night we spent together. So, I am relishing saying his name now as much as possible. I think I am trying to wear it out, so that tomorrow it'll be easier not to say it anymore. Does that make any kind of sense?”

“Not at all. But if it'll help you, then go ahead...” At Justin's quizzical expression, she urged “Say his name, go on! Shout it, if you must.”

Justin looked at her dubiously for a couple of seconds, then he closed his eyes and Brian's face immediately popped up behind his eyelids. He started out somewhat tentatively and quietly, whispering his lover's name softly, “Brian Kinney... Brian Kinney... Brian Kinney...” But as he continued, his voice picked up speed and strength, “Brian Kinney, Brian Kinney, Brian Kinney, Brian Kinney,” until it rose into a crescendo. “ _Brian Kinney, Brian Kinney..”_ Justin suddenly stopped, took a ragged breath and shouted at the top of his lungs “BRIAN KINNEY!”

“That was ten. Feel better?” Daphne asked gently as Justin opened his eyes.

“Almost.” Justin answered, then he closed his eyes again. “Brian Kinney...” he whispered. “OK, now I feel better.” Then Justin suddenly laughed and realized that inexplicably he did feel slightly better.

“Really?” She asked concerned.

“No, not really, but I don't really have a choice Daph. Bottom line is he does not want me anymore and I  _have_  to move on.”

“You also need to get some sleep. We both do – we've got school tomorrow, remember?” Daphne reminded him gently and lightly squeezed his hand.

“Yeah, I remember.” He sighed and got up to get ready for bed.

~*~*~*~

**_Year One..._ **

**_Pittsburgh..._ **

As difficult as it was, Justin stuck to his moratorium at least in regards to talking about Brian Kinney. Not thinking about him and their night together proved to be a lot harder to do. The first couple of months he thought about Brian every day and frequently dreamt about the events of that fateful August night that brought them together. Not obsessing about his first lover proved to be equally as hard, since Justin considered drawing every inch of Brian's body from memory on a daily basis in pencil, charcoal and ink pretty much an obsession. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it because drawing Brian's face, hands, feet, back, ass, cock or any other part of his incredible body helped him overcome many varied physical conditions that suddenly started to plague him - such as insomnia, headache, stomachache, sudden anxiety before taking tests, memory problems when studying for SATs and writer's block when doing school assignments. In three months he filled two large sketchbooks with drawings of Brian to his constant chagrin and to Daphne's continued annoyance. She was of the opinion that since he couldn't let Brian Kinney go, then he should just go to Liberty Avenue and seek him out. Justin adamantly refused and sticking to his guns avoided the place like his life depended on it.

Adopting Brian's “maximum pleasure, minimum bullshit” motto proved to be equally as difficult as getting over the man himself, if not more so. Though it wasn't for lack of want, it was rather a lack of opportunity. St. James Academy wasn't exactly the gay mecca that was Liberty Avenue. Justin suspected that there might be at least a couple of other gay students in his school, but he had no idea who they were, since all were deep in the closet. Even if he knew who they were, Justin doubted he'd be interested in fucking any of them, since the only guy he felt remotely attracted to was a jock with a steady girlfriend of four years.

The only opportunity for sex that came his way was when he was visiting the art museum with his mother. A relatively attractive guy around Justin's age caught his eye and the two headed for the bathroom. Unfortunately, the experience that started out exciting (especially with the possibility of being caught by museum workers or other patrons), soon devolved into an awkward, sloppy and slobbery mess that ended mercifully quickly when the guy prematurely came into his pants. It seemed that the guy who looked like and acted like he knew what he was doing, was even less experienced than Justin. In the end, the idea of fucking in bathrooms made Justin shudder in disgust and he decided that fucking someone his age wasn't really worth the trouble.

~*~*~*~

On February 14th, almost six months after his night with Brian, Daphne finally convinced Justin to venture onto Liberty Avenue once more and at least find a date for Valentine's Day and get laid, so that they won't both be dateless, lonely losers. Justin told Daphne that she couldn't be a loser if she tried, but he finally relented and borrowing her car again drove towards the heart of Pittsburgh's gay neighborhood.

He spent an hour walking up and down Liberty Avenue; went into Boy Toy, which he remembered was a twink bar, and then a few other places. Unfortunately, he didn't see anyone remotely interesting. In his opinion there was absolutely no one he saw that he wanted fuck and he either ignored or firmly refused all offers to hook up. Eventually, thoroughly defeated he decided to put himself out of his misery and find Brian. He went to Woody's where he saw all of Brian's friends playing pool, but the brunet himself was nowhere to be found. He remembered Michael rather well and no one who has ever met Emmett would ever forget him, even though Justin spent less then five minutes in his company. He couldn't remember the name of the guy who looked like an accountant, but Justin could swear it started with a “T”. Justin decided he had nothing to lose; gathering his courage, he walked up to them and boldly asked about their missing friend.

“Didn't I tell you to forget about him?” Michael said petulantly. “He has forgotten about you as soon as you were out the door, you stupid twat!” He continued, his voice rising. “He doesn't do repeats, can't you get it through your thick head?” He ended on a screech.

Justin was so taken aback by Michael's tone, he couldn't say anything in return and stayed rooted to the spot in shock for several minutes. The accountant and Emmett looked at him with sorrowful expressions. An older man Justin has never met and who inexplicably was there with Michael actually appeared to be embarrassed.

“Don't mind Michael, baby.” Emmett said soothingly, “He's just upset about Brian leaving.”

“Leaving?” Justin asked, completely bewildered. “Leaving where? For how long?”

“New York. It's been his life-long dream to get out of Pittsburgh and now it seems that he has an opportunity for a job with one of the big advertizing firms in Manhattan.” Emmett explained, “He's there now, actually. He had a job interview this morning. Knowing Brian, the job's in the bag, he'll move to New York City and forget about all of us within days, if not within minutes. So, Michael's right, baby, though he shouldn't have been so rude to you - you should forget about Brian and move on.”

“Thanks, Emmett.” Justin said quietly. Ignoring Michael, Justin nodded in the others' direction in farewell, left the bar and then Liberty Avenue without a backward glance.

~*~*~*~

Justin stopped at an all-night grocery store on the way back to Daphne's, bought her the best bouquet of flowers he could find, a heart-shaped box of candy and a Pepto Bismol pink Valentine's Day card. He surprised his best friend with his cheesy gifts and said,

“I shouldn't have left, Daph. I shouldn't have gone chasing a dream guy on fucking Valentine's Day like a complete loser, when my best friend in the world is staying home alone. Forgive me?”

“Absolutely! And you couldn't be a loser if you tried.” She said with a smile. “Now, what happened with Brian?” She asked knowing right away that asking about some random trick would be utterly useless.

“Nothing. He wasn't there and according to his friends he'll be moving to New York City pretty damn soon... So, that's that.” He sighed.

“Damn, Jus, I'm sorry!”

“Me too. But you know what? This is a good thing, Daph. I realized a couple of things tonight. First, I found out I am not unattractive. I was starting to think that maybe that night with the face of God was a fluke, you know. That he was too drunk and too high to know any different and that's why he picked me up, but it turns out that was total bullshit! I've had so many blow job, hand job and hook up offers tonight, I've lost count. It seems I can get pretty much anyone I want, which is kind of unfortunate, because there was absolutely no one I wanted to fuck and every single place on Liberty was packed - Valentine's Day and all.”

“So, what's your plan?”

“What it was before – avoid Liberty, forget  _him_ , move on and graduate high school, 'cause God knows there's no one at St. James remotely fuckable aside from Chris Hobbs and he's as straight as they come, and a complete asshole. Yeah, I want to get laid like any other guy my age, but tonight I realized I don't want random hook ups; none of them are going to measure up to  _my first_  anyway, so what's the point? That was the second thing I realized, which means that I probably won't get laid again until college, but what can you do.” He sighed and shrugged.

“I understand about not wanting random hook ups. I'm into the long-term thing myself, you know that. Here's the thing, though...” She hesitated, but then continued bravely “I've been thinking a lot about your first time with Brian and I realized that I want my first time to be exactly the same...”

“With B...He doesn't fuck women, Daph, you are out of luck there.” Justin deadpanned.

“Har-har, very funny! Of course not with Brian! I meant that I want my first time to be with someone I trust implicitly, someone I know will take care of me, will take it slow, will make me feel good. I've had three boyfriends and as much as I liked all of them – I even thought I was in love with Paul – I didn't want any of them to be my first. Somehow, deep down, I didn't trust them not to be selfish in bed. You didn't know Brian at all, yet you trusted him with your entire being. I realized that that's what I want, Justin. There's only one person in the world whom I trust that much and whom I love that much, even though I am not 'in love' with him.”

“Who?” Justin asked curiously.

“You, dumbass! I want my first time to be with you, Justin, because I know you would die before you would ever hurt me or treat me like shit afterwords.”

“Uhm, Daph, you do remember that I am gay, right?”

“Yes, Justin, I remember.” She let out an exaggerated sigh and dramatically rolled her eyes. “How could I forget? But you are an 18 year old male, who's constantly sporting a hard-on, so I somehow don't think you'll have trouble performing, even with a girl. Listen, it's no pressure, OK? You've never been with a girl and I've never been with a guy, so I thought we could lose our virginity to each other. Well, technically you aren't really a virgin anymore, but at the same time you kinda are. We love each other as friends and we trust each other with our lives. In my humble opinion, there's no better partner to lose it to, don't you think? Oh, and if you are worried that you'll rock my world so much that I'll instantly fall in love with you and ruin our friendship, don't be. Just think about it, Justin. OK?”

“OK, I'll think about it.”

~*~*~*~

Justin did think about it. He thought about it a lot and in the end decided to accept Daphne's very generous offer – partly to (hopefully) please his best friend and partly from curiosity. They discussed it at length and promised each other “no weirdness” after they do the deed. Daphne, a budding feminist, decided the date to be March 8th - International Women's Day that's celebrated in many countries throughout the world. She thought it would be symbolic “to become a woman in every sense of the word, to claim her sexual identity and to celebrate her sexuality” on such a day. Luckily and by complete coincidence, Daphne's parents were attending a hospital fundraiser that evening, which provided ample time and complete privacy to the two best friends.

Daphne and Justin pretended to study in her room while her parents were getting ready, but as soon as they left, both brought out carefully concealed packages of provisions that they both brought for the big event. The fact that both of them had multiple condoms, spermicidal foam and lube made them laugh – it looked like they were both over-prepared – which dispelled the sudden nervousness and made them comfortable again. They spent fifteen minutes picking out some mood music and settled on the Portishead album  _Dummy_  that they both loved and thought was totally sexy in an understated way. They put the CD on very low volume until it was barely heard and got down to business.

About half an hour later they lay on the bed side-by-side, looking at the ceiling and unsure what to say to each other, until Daphne gathered her courage.

“So, still gay, Jus?”

He looked at her smirking face and immediately relaxed. “Sorry, Daph, but I am still definitely gay. Very, very, completely gay... not that you didn't feel good or anything, but, yeah... I am pretty much...”

“The gayest?” She said, barely suppressing her laughter.

“Oh, yeah. You aren't mad?”

“God, no! You are right, you know, you are good. I read up on stuff online and it's not usual for a woman to achieve orgasm her first time. So, I totally didn't expect it, you know?”

Justin blushed to the roots and confessed, “I called the hotline at the GLC.”

“The Gay and Lesbian Center? Why?” Daphne was rather confused.

“I sort of asked to talk to a lesbian. I thought she could give me pointers, you know, so I explained the whole deal to her. It's all anonymous, by the way, so don't worry. I guess her advice didn't hurt, huh?”

“Oh, my God, Justin! I can't believe you did that for me, thanks!” She said and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “So, that's how you seemed to know what the hell you were doing! Soooooo,” she said dragging the syllable out as long as possible, “who did you think about?”

Justin looked at his best friend and realized that she was not upset and was perfectly serious when asking that question. “You first.”

“Leo DiCaprio.”

“You are kidding?”

“Hey, don't you mock me! I happened to watch  _Titanic_  the other day. He was hot in that and stuck in my mind, OK? Now, it's your turn. Spill!” She demanded.

Justin sighed and answered, “He who must not be named...”

“Lord Voldemort?”

“Brian Kinney, Daph... I was thinking of Brian Kinney.” He hasn't said that name aloud in weeks due to his self-imposed moratorium. Saying it again, even in slight exasperation at Daphne's joke, felt incredibly good. Saying that forbidden name tasted sweet and slightly bitter, like wild honey on his lips.  _“Wild honey... that's what his skin tasted like...sweet and earthy...”_  he remembered wistfully.

“Oh...” She sighed. “That man is an idiot, Jus. He's an idiot for rejecting you and for letting you go. You deserve someone better than that and someday you'll meet him - your prince - and he'll love you forever. I promise you that.” She said fervently.

Daphne's heartfelt words almost made him cry. He swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. “My prince? God, Daph, you are such a girl!” he joked, desperately trying to dissolve the sudden onslaught of emotion.

“Duh!” She said, smiling again. “I want a cigarette. You?”

“Yeah, but shower first, definitely. You should take a bath though, the lesbian at the GLC hotline said it's better if you take a bath. It might help with the soreness and such.” He finished, blushing profusely again.

Daphne looked at her best friend and realized how profoundly right she was for choosing Justin for her first lover – she was convinced that no one else would have taken such good care of her.

“A bath sounds awesome, Jus, thanks.” She said quietly, then smiling again she added. “You know, if you weren't my best friend and gay, I would totally fall in love with you, marry you and have a dozen babies... but, alas, I have to find a straight prince of my very own...” She sighed dramatically and then seeing Justin's worried expression, asked “What's wrong?”

“So, we are cool, Daph? No weirdness?” He asked anxiously.

“I promise, no weirdness.” She answered with conviction.

Daphne took a bath in her parents big whirlpool bathtub, while Justin took a shower in the bathroom across from her room. When they were dressed again, the two friends had a couple of cigarettes before Justin went home.

The next day, March 9th, 2001, was a Friday and when Daphne and Justin met in front of their hated school they were a bit nervous about the others reaction to the previous nights shenanigans. They looked in each others eyes, smiled, then laughed and realized that they were still the best of friends and that there was no weirdness at all.

~*~*~*~

The next few weeks went by without incident and life was good until April Fool's day when Justin's life began to fall apart. The first thing that happened was his mother found his “Brian” sketchbooks in his room. It was Sunday afternoon and she came into his room with a fresh load of laundry. Normally Justin folded and put his clothes away himself, but for some odd reason Jennifer Taylor decided to help out her son just this once. She opened the bottom drawer of his chest of drawers to put a bunch of folded t-shirts inside. The drawer was messy, with clothes jumbled up haphazardly and crammed almost full. She took the entire thing out and dumped the contents onto his bed in order to straighten it all out. She didn't realize that the mess was intentional and was there to hide multiple sketchbooks containing nude studies of Brian and very explicit drawings of the two of them having sex in various positions.

Jennifer long suspected that Justin might be gay, but until that moment there was no actual proof. She sat down on Justin's bed in shock, suddenly grateful that she was alone in the house – Justin was hanging out with Daphne as usual, Molly was on a play date until the evening and Craig was at the country club playing racket ball with a buddy of his. She didn't know what to do, but instinctively decided to talk to Justin alone before saying anything to his father. Something told her that he wouldn't react well to the news of their son's apparent sexuality.

To say that that conversation wasn't easy would be a massive understatement. When Craig came home from the country club, she somehow convinced him to go pick up Molly from her play date and go on a father-daughter outing to the movies. When Justin came home shortly after Craig left to pick up Molly, Jennifer confronted her son and asked him about the sketches. At first, Justin wanted to deny everything, but a sudden image of Brian appeared in his mind and he couldn't lie. As difficult and as scary as it was, Justin came out to his mother and admitted to not being a virgin any longer. She took it better than he expected. She surprised him by agreeing that his father wouldn't react well and further astonished him by promising to keep it a secret from Craig for a little while. However, when she asked him about the man in his sketches specifically, Justin lied. He told her that he saw the man on the street, was attracted to him and all the drawings were from his imagination. For some reason, his one night stand with Brian was private and he didn't want to share it with anyone else, aside from Daphne, especially not with his mother. Justin was pretty sure that she didn't believe his story deep down. In fact, he was positive that she consciously decided to take his word for it because she couldn't handle hearing any of the details. They both left it at that, but their relationship wasn't the same. It wasn't exactly strained, but it was definitely not as easy or as close as it was before his coming out.

The second event that further unraveled Justin's life happened at school a couple of weeks later. He made the mistake of giving a hand job to Chris Hobbs in the sports equipment room during detention. They were almost caught and at first Chris acted like nothing happened. Neither Justin nor Chris mentioned the incident to anyone else and never talked of it with each other. Justin thought that Chris decided that it was a one off mistake and that he had put the entire episode out of his mind, since he was still with his girlfriend and actually ramped up the amount of PDA in the hallways of St. James Academy. Unfortunately, Justin couldn't have been more wrong.

The trouble started after prom, which Justin attended with Daphne. The two best friends had a blast dancing the night away, completely unaware of resentful stares thrown their way by Chris Hobbs and of his rising anger. On Monday, when everyone returned to school after prom, rumors of Justin's sexuality began to creep around until they escalated into a firestorm. Hobbs didn't hide the fact that he started the rumors when Justin finally confronted him. Angry beyond reason Justin attempted to tell everyone about the hand job, but Hobbs suddenly hit him and proceeded to beat the hell out of the blond. Justin did his best to defend himself, but Chris's football buddies jumped in and by the time a couple of teachers and the principal of the school intervened, Justin was lying on the floor unconscious and bloody.

In the end, Justin wasn't seriously hurt – except for a mild concussion, most of the injuries were superficial. Justin would have gladly lived with all of that, including the three day suspension he received at school for fighting, if not for the fact that the incident made the rest of his senior year at the Academy a living hell. And for the fact that the whole ordeal revealed his sexuality to his father and completely destroyed their relationship.

Craig refused to speak to Justin for weeks and barely acknowledged his presence in the house. He only started speaking to Justin again when he overheard a conversation between his wife and his son of Justin being accepted to PIFA and his desire to go to art school. The idea of his son going to art school was somehow worse to Craig than his son being beaten bloody for being gay. He talked to Justin for the first time in weeks and gave him an ultimatum – either Justin deny his sexuality and go to Dartmouth to study business or he'll be thrown out on the street right after graduation from high school without a penny and be denied access to his entire family, his mother and sister included. Jennifer tried to protest, but Craig made it clear that she wouldn't like the consequences if she continued defending their son.

Justin was angry and heartbroken. He didn't want to hurt his mother or sister more than they've already been hurt. He realized that he had no choice but to comply with his father's demands.

However, Justin wasn't going to take everything that Craig dished out; at least not without a fight. For some reason he thought of Brian Kinney and he was absolutely certain that Brian wouldn't take this bullshit lying down; that he would figure out a way to make a bad situation work for him. He thought long and hard about his choices. In the end, he approached his father with a compromise of sorts that he decided he could live with. Craig, reluctantly impressed with his son's negotiating skills, agreed to a deal.

~*~*~*~

Justin's high school graduation from St. James Academy was attended only by his mother and sister. Craig stayed away under the pretext of an unexpected problem at work. Although it upset him, Justin decided to let his father go. When his name was called to receive the diploma, he walked up on stage proudly and with his head held high. He ignored the snickers and catcalls coming from Chris Hobbs and his homophobic friends and concentrated on the cheers coming form his mother, sister and Daphne.

“ _Here comes the rest of my life...”_  Justin thought as he walked down the stage stairs, high school diploma in hand,  _“Beat me, call me names, disown me, give me ultimatums, deny me my rights, you fucking homophobes! Do whatever you fucking want, because in the end I'll show you, I'll show you ALL what I am capable of. I'll be the best, the most successful fucking homosexual I can possibly be, just like Brian Kinney. So, come on, life – bring it on!”_

_~*~*~*~_


	3. Thursday, August 23rd, 2001

**_Year One..._ **

It was unfortunate that Mr. George Goodfuck didn't live up to his name. His ten inch dick was in fact that long, but it had no girth, which was quite a disappointment. Brian definitely was not a fan of pencil-dick. As for his ass, it seemed too loose, unsatisfying and visually unattractive. Brian decided that he could confidently swear under oath that that ass saw more traffic than the backroom of Babylon. His thoughts strayed to the blond twink again, but he decisively pushed them away. He admitted to himself that the kid's body was the definition of perfection from top to bottom – especially that incredible bottom – but the kid already began to weave silly romantic tales in his head about love just after one night. As physically satisfying fucking him again would be, it would be cruel and disastrous for the kid emotionally; not to mention it would go against all of his rules. Brian was honest enough with himself to be inordinately pleased – even honored - to have been Justin's first lover. But one night was all the kid could clearly handle, so that was that.

Brian walked up to his liquor cart and by the time he poured himself a snifter of Beam and lit a joint he forgot all about that nights' “entertainment.” Forgetting about the blond twink and the previous night, though, proved to be surprisingly difficult. It took two more glasses of Beam (doubles) and a second joint to sufficiently push aside the memory of blond hair that felt like silk; of brilliant blue eyes that in passion flashed like sapphires; of cranberry colored lips that tasted as sweet as candy; of alabaster skin that had a pearlescent glow under the blue bedroom light and that felt smoother than 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets; of a glorious ass – tight to the point of pain, its velvety heat felt like sheer heaven; and of each caress, kiss and sigh that reached into his very soul.

Brian went to bed pleasantly drunk and a bit high, absolutely convinced that the little blond twink named Justin was firmly in the past and out of his mind. But when he woke up the next morning with a raging hard on and lingering whispers of a dream featuring said twink riding him with abandon, Brian realized that he'll actually have to work at forgetting the kid and that three drinks, and two joints weren't going to be enough to erase the memory of the night of Wednesday, August 23rd, 2000. Immediately Brian made up a new rule – not to fuck anymore blond, blue-eyed, teen virgin twinks, because they might remind him of a particular one.

A stray glance at his stereo made Brian pause. He walked up to it, took out the CD of _Dummy_ by Portishead and threw it in the trash. He made up another rule – no more fucking to the hypnotic downbeat of trip hop. It was excellent music to get baked to, almost on par with Jazz, but using it as mood music during sex was clearly dangerous. Feeling somewhat accomplished with the mornings' decisions, Brian headed for the bathroom to jerk off, shower and get ready for another exciting workday at the Ryder Agency.

~*~*~*~

The Ryder Agency was sold three months later to Gardner Vance and the Pittsburgh office became the new headquarters of VanGard Advertising. Brian was pissed off beyond belief, since instead of becoming a partner, he had to prove himself to his new boss like some green newbie in order to keep his job. Brian served Gardner his just desserts by acquiring Brown Athletics as a new client, an account that Gardner himself has been after for years and has never been able to win. Securing the account wasn't as sweet as being made partner would have been, but it did get him a significant raise in salary and a hefty bonus. A few months later the Brown Athletics campaign won a Cleo Award, got Brian a nomination for Ad Man of the Year and to top it all off he got a job interview with a big ad agency in Manhattan. Unfortunately, the New York job fell through and Brian returned to Pittsburgh somewhat disappointed, yet somewhat relieved. Taking the New York advertising world by storm has been a dream of his for a decade, hence the crushing disappointment when the job went to an internal candidate. But at the same time, he realized that here in Pittsburgh he was a big fish in a relatively small pond and his sphere of influence was much wider. As upset as Brian was about losing such a fantastic opportunity, he also realized that he was much closer to his goal of a partnership at VanGard, than at a huge Manhattan firm.

He mourned and simultaneously celebrated his return to Pittsburgh with an epic weekend of sex, drugs and booze. As soon as he sobered up, Brian threw himself into work with a vengeance, determined to make the best of being stuck in the Pitts. A couple of weeks later Gardner, thinking that next time he won't be so lucky and might lose the best ad man he's ever worked with to another agency, made Brian an offer of a Junior partnership with a 5% stake in the firm. Brian happily accepted, thus achieving a professional goal in less then a decade since graduating college and (most importantly) well before his 30th birthday. The partnership, however, came at a price – increased responsibility, increased workload, increased travel and a rapidly dwindling social life. Within weeks of making partner, a nightly excursion to Woody's and then several hours at Babylon became impossible. He was lucky to have time for a couple of games of pool with the gang at Woody's a couple of times during the workweek and Babylon was now relegated only to the weekend. In order to satisfy his highly sexed libido, Brian resorted to going to the baths at lunchtime for a quick fuck. But Brian decided that professional success trumped a slightly diminished sex life, at least for the time being.

~*~*~*~*~

_June 2001...._

Before going their separate ways for college, Daphne and Justin went on a summer backpacking trip through Europe that they've been dreaming about and saving for since middle school. They found a service that gave a student discount on airfare and decided to fly in and out of London due to tickets being the cheapest. They left Pittsburgh on Thursday night and by morning on Friday, June 8th they were in London. They immediately made their way to Paris, deciding to spend a couple of weeks exploring England, Scotland and Ireland in August on their way back to the states.

The two best friends took the ferry to Calais and then a train to Paris. They planned on spending just three days in Paris and then traveling around France, but they fell in love with the city and ended up staying there for ten days. They stayed in cheap youth hostels and tried to save on food as much as possible, but indulged in drinking a couple of glasses of good wine every evening, while sitting outdoors in tiny cafes along the Champs Elysee, the Seine and Montmartre people watching like the locals. Justin was in heaven and his artists' soul soared as they explored the halls of the Louvre, Musee d'Orsey and the Rodin Museum. They spent hours walking all over the City of Lights from early morning till late at night. Justin continuously sketched various Parisian scenes and people, while Daphne, a gifted amateur photographer, took dozens of pictures with her brand new, state-of-the-art digital camera that she got for graduation. At the end of their ten day stay they didn't want to leave and had to practically force themselves to move on to the next city in their itinerary.

They decided to forgo exploring the rest of France and took the train to Belgium directly from Paris. They spend three days exploring Brussels, taking a day trip to visit the town of Bruges about an hour away. Afterwords, they scored cheap tickets on a discount airline and flew to Amsterdam, spending three days exploring everything from museums, to flower markets, to smoky cafes, to the red light district. Then they flew to Frankfurt with the intention of spending about ten days traveling around Germany. They bought a student Euro Rail pass and went from town to town. They explored the rich Hessen region for about five days, visiting numerous castles along the Rhine river and exploring little towns, villages, and vineyards. Then the two friends headed south via train to Bavaria. They stayed at a yet another youth hostel in Munich exploring museums, shops and enjoying their first beer-garden experience at Haufbrauhaus. They spent three solid days in Munich itself, after which they took day trips to nearby towns of Garmish-Partenkirchen and Oberau. They went hiking in the mountains and by accident found themselves in a beautiful gorge where they spend several hours – Justin sketching and Daphne taking dozens of photos. One of the highlights of their time in Germany was a day trip to Neueswanstein Castle and a trip to the Zugspitze, the highest mountain peak in Germany. They took the ski lift to the observation deck at the summit and again, spend a several hours taking in the view, sketching and taking pictures.

Next on their agenda was the Austrian city of Salzburg, the birthplace of Mozart, home to one of the largest castles in Europe, Hohensalzburg Castle, and the setting for  _The Sound of Music_. Three full days in Salzburg was enough for Justin and Daphne. Thus, they soon took the train to Vienna, where they spend a week. By the time they arrived in Vienna, Justin has already filled three large sketchbooks that he brought with him from the states to capacity and two new ones that he bought in Frankfurt at an art store they stumbled upon. He wished he had bought more. Therefore, their first order of business was to find an art store, so that he could restock on ink, charcoal, pencils and sketchbooks. Daphne insisted that he mail the sketchbooks home, so that they wouldn't have to lug his increasing portfolio around, which he very reluctantly agreed to do. However, to Daphne's irritation, he bought five brand new sketchbooks to replace the ones he sent home, so they lugged them around anyway.

They fell in love with Vienna - it's wide avenues, majestic buildings and gorgeous architecture. They loved it's museums, palaces and churches. They discovered the sinful deliciousness that was the Sacher Torte accompanied by the strongest coffee they've tasted yet and an incredible treat for the eyes that were Austrian men, every one of whom seemed to have stepped off of the pages of GQ magazine, so beautiful were their features and physiques, and so elegant was their dress. Even casual attire among Viennese citizens seemed to be very stylish and up-market, making the ever popular “spot the tourist” game pretty much moot. A lot of Austrian men seemed to remind Justin very strongly of the way Brian looked in his Armani suit the morning after their wild one night stand almost a year ago.

They were almost regretful when leaving Vienna, but their next destination – Rome - was extremely exciting to them nonetheless. They spent a week in Rome and then another week exploring Florence, Venice, Naples and Piza. Justin drew so much and so quickly, trying to capture as many scenes as possible, his wrists and hands started to hurt, but he pressed on, quickly filling the remaining three sketchbooks of the five he bought in Vienna. He purchased five new ones, thinking that they would be enough for the rest of their European adventure.

The last three weeks they planned to explore Great Britain and Ireland. From Italy, they flew to Dublin, where they stayed for five days, taking day trips to visit various towns and tourist sites nearby. After that it was on to Edinburgh, where a music festival was in full swing. Luckily enough, they met up with fellow backpackers from their hostel in Rome who let them stay on the floor of their hotel room, because otherwise they would have been out of luck accommodation-wise, since Edinburgh was packed to the gills with festival-goers.

Justin was amused, surprised and extremely pleased when a bunch of tourists noticed him sketching and asked to buy his drawings. He ended up spending three hours making quick sketches of tourists with the Edinburgh castle in the background. He sold ten sketches of tourists for 20 pounds each, plus another twenty sketches for the same price that he drew previously in Vienna, Rome, Dublin and the Irish countryside. At the end of the day, Justin had 600 pounds and suggested to Daphne to spend the unexpected bounty on a really nice London hotel for their last two nights in Europe. They enjoyed Edinburgh, the music festival and the surrounding Scottish countryside for five days before taking a train to London.

They had almost a full week to explore London before their flight back to the US on Saturday, August 25th. They wanted to spend the last two nights luxuriating in the famous Dorchester hotel, but at 400 pounds a night, it was impossible. Combined Daphne and Justin had about 200 pounds left to spend for the remainder of their trip. She proposed that if Justin manages to sell a few more drawings to pay for food and entertainment in London, they could put up the last two hundred for two nights at the Dorchester. Justin agreed, so the first day they were in London, Justin attempted to sell a few more drawings to tourists walking around Trafalgar Square. Happily, he managed to sell enough to recoup the 200 pound hotel investment and the two best friends eagerly made their way to the luxury hotel to reserve the smallest and the cheapest room they had available.

The days were spent walking around the city and taking in all the typical tourist attractions as well as hours spent in museums from the British Museum, the National Gallery, the Portrait Gallery to the Victoria and Albert Museum. In the evening, Daphne and Justin went to local pubs to enjoy the beer and the football-loving crowds. The first four nights in London were spent in a cramped hostel, sharing a tiny room with six other backpackers and sleeping in uncomfortable, though clean, bunk beds. After spending the entire summer in crowded youth hostels and hotel room floors they couldn't wait for Thursday and Friday night at the Dorchester.

~*~*~*~

Brian had an informal meeting with a potential client of a high end European clothing company that was trying to break into the American market. They've established operations in the US two years prior, but were not satisfied with the marketing and advertising efforts of their previous advertising firm. Gardner heard they were shopping for new representation by accident at a fund raising event he attended and gave the pitch to Brian. The new client was interested in hearing more, but was due back in England urgently. He requested that Brian come to their offices in London to pitch his ideas for a full-fledged ad campaign in two weeks' time. Lindsey and Melanie were a little upset that Brian would miss Gus's first birthday, but they eventually understood, since he would be out of the country on business and not for any other reason.

Brian arrived in London late on Thursday afternoon, on August 23rd and checked into the Dorchester hotel. While at the reception desk, he heard a joyful laugh and the strangely familiar sound made him whip around and quickly scan the cavernous lobby. At first, Brian didn't see anyone he knew at all and he was about to resume his conversation with the concierge, when at the last minute a mop of blond hair caught his eye as a young man, who looked awfully familiar, walked swiftly towards the exit following an attractive black girl. A second later a bellman spoke to him, distracting him for a minute. When he turned around again, the blond was gone and Brian wasn't sure whether it was his imagination playing tricks on him, or whether it was that same kid he met on Liberty Avenue exactly a year ago, the night that Gus was born. He decided that it was probably a coincidence, since what would that kid be doing in London and at the Dorchester Hotel, of all places?

Brian decided to have room service deliver dinner and then spent the rest of the night prepping for the pitch that was scheduled for nine am the next morning. At 10 pm Brian has had enough prep, so he decided to check out the hotel bar and went downstairs. He stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the lobby when he saw the blond again. It wasn't his imagination this time. He was sure that it was the same kid, though slightly older, wearing snug black jeans and a plain, fitted royal blue t-shirt. He was leaning against one of the lobby pilasters and drawing in a large, spiral bound sketchbook.

If Brian hesitated, it was only for a split second, because before he knew it he was striding towards the blond twink, whom he never quite managed to forget and of whom he periodically thought at odd moments througout the year.

“How's it going? Had a busy night,” came unbidden out of his mouth, making Brian instantly and clearly recall the details of their first meeting, which was amazing considering how high he ended up being later that night.

Justin's gaze snapped up from his sketchbook and his eyes, wide in astonishment, locked onto Brian's.

“Oh, God!” Justin breathed out.

“No, not God - Brian Kinney. Although, I can see how you could have easily made such a mistake,” Brian said, his lips curling inward in amusement.

“Of course, Brian.” Justin laughed. “What are you doing here?” They asked in unison.

Brian smirked again and gestured for Justin to go first.

“Daph – my best friend – and I spent the summer backpacking through Europe. This is the last stop. You?”

“Potential client. Have a pitch tomorrow morning.”

“You are in advertising. Right, I remember,” Justin tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, while his heart was beating so fast and so hard, he was irrationally afraid that it'll leap out of his chest and land in front of Brian on the marble floor of the hotel lobby.

“So, where are you headed?” Brian asked as Justin's eyebrows rose in surprise.

 _He's not! He couldn't possibly mean what I think he means! No, there's no way he's inviting me to his room. He doesn't do repeats, does he?_ Justin thought frantically.

“Uhm... nowhere special?” He said uncertainly.

“I can change that,” Brian said with the intention of taking the blond up to his suite, but his lips formed completely different words of their own volition, “Buy you a drink? The bar is this way.” He motioned to the right. Justin nodded and they headed towards the bar, while  _What the fuck am I doing?_ kept going around in Brian's head.

They ordered a couple of snifters of scotch and sat at a little table since the bar was completely occupied and sipped the expensive liquor in silence. After about two minutes of this awkwardness, Justin screwed up his courage and asked Brian about his work and the client he was set to see in the morning. Before he knew what was happening, Brian was telling Justin all about the tumultuous year he has had professionally and about the pitch he had prepared for this client. He was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Justin about his work. The fact that Justin was perfectly capable of keeping up with the conversation and the intelligent questions he asked surprised and pleased Brian also.

Brian found himself inexplicably interested in Justin's life and asked about his last year of high school. Justin wasn't interested in talking about anything to do with St. James and told Brian that he's rather forget the entire experience and concentrate on the present and the future. Brian didn't press and instead asked Justin about his backpacking trip around Europe, especially since he took a similar trip when he was in college. Justin enthusiastically told him of all the places that he and Daphne had visited. Time flew by as the two men compared notes about their favorite cities, museums, pubs and clubs over a second order of Glenfiddich 21.

Curious about Justin's sketchbook, Brian asked to take a look and was completely blown away by the quality of the work. Brian had no idea that Justin was an aspiring artist and that he possessed such incredible talent. Before Brian could ask Justin about his art, the waitress interrupted and asked if they wanted another order of scotch. Brian looked at Justin quizzically.

“I don't think so, Brian, it's getting kind of late. You have a pitch tomorrow and I don't want to hold you up. Thanks, though,” Justin answered reluctantly.

Brian looked at his watch and got another surprise – it was midnight; meaning he had spent close to two hours talking to an 18-year-old twink over drinks, enjoying the hell out of their conversation, which never even touched the subject of sex.

 _If this was a date, I'd be in deep shit trouble!_  Brian thought and immediately recoiled from such a disturbing idea.

“Yeah, you are probably right,” He said quickly and asked the waitress for the check.

~*~*~*~

Five minutes later they were walking across the lobby towards the elevator, their conversation somewhat abated and for some reason turned towards the opulent décor of the hotel and that of their rooms. The elevator doors chimed open all too soon and the elevator attendant asked them for their floors.

“Two, please,” Justin said quietly, politeness personified.

“Six,” Brian answered brusquely. When the elevator doors opened on Justin's floor a minute later, Brian suddenly said, “I'm in the Junior Suite, it has an excellent view of Mayfair. Thought you might be interested in seeing it.”

Justin didn't even hesitate, “I'd love to,” he answered, stepped back and leaned against the elevator wall.

If the elevator attendant was surprised, he didn't show it. With a quiet “Very well” he pushed the button to close the doors. Brian and Justin rode up to the 6th floor looking straight at each other in complete silence. As they exited the elevator, Brian gave the elevator attendant a generous tip and promptly forgot about the man as Justin and he made their way to his suite.

They entered the spacious suite richly decorated in Art Deco style still in silence, but now avoiding looking at each other. Justin started looking around the gorgeous room not really seeing anything in front of him and doing his best to hide his sudden nervousness. All he wanted to do was jump the brunet and devour him whole, but he decided to let Brian make the first move, since he was still not 100% sure that Brian wanted to break his 'no-repeats' rule. Brian, sensing Justin's nerves, decided to do the gentlemanly thing, which was unusual in itself, and let Justin calm down a little. He thought that the sudden silence between them was a bit on the oppressive side, so he turned on the television for some background noise. He surfed the channels, trying to find something on TV that wouldn't make the tension worse. He happened upon a channel airing some sort of live concert, he turned down the volume a bit so that it was relatively low, but still heard and walked towards Justin, who was now looking out the window.

“What do you think?” 

“It is excellent - the view - just as advertised,” Justin answered, turned around and with a sudden confidence looked straight into Brian's eyes. Brian was about to make his move when his ears caught the familiar female voice singing the awfully familiar words in the concert being broadcast on television.

“ _Your softly spoken words  
Release my whole desire  
_ _Undenied_  
Totally  
  
And so bare is my heart, I can't hide  
And so where does my heart, belong  
  
Beneath your tender touch  
My senses can't divide  
Ohh so strong  
My desire...”

 _Fuck! It just_ had _to be fucking Portishead!_ Brian thought, but the very next second all thought perished as soft lips attacked his mouth in a searing kiss and as Justin's lithe body, standing on tip-toe, pressed firmly against him. What happened after was the dirtiest, the craziest, the most exciting sex Brian has had in the last year, if not longer. They wore each other out and fell asleep in the wee hours of Friday morning.

~*~*~*~

Brian woke up at the sound of the alarm set for 7 am sharp and immediately realized that he was alone. He was strangely disappointed, but thankfully, he had no time to worry about some blond twink for whom he broke his 'no-repeats' rule, no matter how hot he was. He had to get ready for the pitch and a client to impress in two hours. Brian told himself that there was no room for thoughts that didn't have anything to do with business this morning, especially since he wanted to get to the client's office early.

Brian's meeting went extremely well and the client was suitably impressed. But before signing on the dotted line, he requested that some of the advertising campaign ideas Brian came up with be developed a bit further. Brian agreed to work on the proposal over the weekend and secured a follow up meeting on Monday morning.

Happy with his mornings' work and still riding on an adrenalin high from the pitch, Brian decided to walk back to the Dorchester, instead of taking the taxi. Brian was leisurely walking in the direction of the hotel and thinking about different ways to tweak the campaign to suit the clients needs. He was momentarily distracted by a car that screeched to a halt at a read light nearby. The song blasting out of its speakers was unmistakeably the studio version of  _“Undenied”_  by Portishead, the same song playing live on TV the night before when he and Justin fell on each other. As soon as that thought appeared, the details of last nights' unbridled passion started playing in Brian's mind with startling clarity, instantly turning him on to the point of pain.

 _OK, I'm never fucking listening to that damned band ever again – it's making me act like a fucking lesbian,_ he promised himself. Though try as he might, his thoughts strayed to the blond and he couldn't help but wonder why Justin sneaked out of his room the way he did.

~*~*~*~

Brian didn't see Justin all afternoon and evening, which was just as well. He took a quick nap as soon as he returned to the hotel and then spent the rest of the day working on the proposed campaign for the British clothier. Around 10 pm Brian decided to go back down to the bar, trying to convince himself that he wasn't doing that in hopes of seeing Justin again. As soon as he walked in he saw Justin, leaning on the mahogany bar, talking to a pretty girl. Brian walked up and Justin, slightly flustered and blushing profusely, introduced him to Daphne. Brian gallantly kissed the top of her hand, making her stutter and her eyes go round. Daphne, long curious about the legendary Brian Kinney, really wanted to stay and get to know the brunet, but five minutes later it became apparent to her that she seized to exist for the two men as soon as the introductions were over. With a knowing smirk, she feigned a sudden headache, said good bye and left. Neither Brian nor Justin noticed her departure.

After a couple of minutes of meaningless small talk about absolutely nothing of interest, Brian said,

“So, that view of Mayfair, want to see it again?”

Justin who was in the middle of talking about something inconsequential like the weather, suddenly stopped in mid-sentence.

“But,” Justin stuttered, “but, you've already had me. Twice,” he finished in complete confusion.

“Not on this continent,” Brian answered cheekily.

Justin stared at him with wide eyes and the only thing he could come up with in answer was, “This is technically an island, you know?”

“Not on this island, then.”

“I thought you don't do repeats!”

“Apparently you are an exception. Maybe third time will be the charm and after that I won't want you anymore.”

Justin thought for a moment and then smiled in a way that took Brian's breath away, “What's the harm? I'm going back home tomorrow anyway.”

“To Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah, but I'm leaving again two days later for school.”

“Where are you going?” Brian asked curiously.

“Dartmouth.”

“That's a good school, congratulations,” Brian offered as they made their way towards the elevator.

The same elevator attendant greeted them when the doors opened and after taking one look at Brian's face, he pushed the button for floor number six without asking for instructions and with an all-knowing expression on his face. Brian and Justin looked at each other and smirked, doing their best not to laugh. Something prompted Brian to see how far he could push the attendant. He pointedly looked at Justin and said,

“I was thinking, if we go by the number of condoms we've used it's been more than just twice. It's probably closer to eight.”

Justin, knowing exactly what Brian was doing, pretended to seriously consider his words. “Actually, I'd say it's in the double digits by now...”

The elevator attendant didn't even blink, but as they exited the elevator on the 6th floor and Brian palmed another generous tip into the attendant's hand, he noticed a definite pink tinge on his cheeks.

~*~*~*~

When they entered Brian's suite, there was no thought about the view or background noise. Instead, Brian pushed Justin against the door and as the lock slid home with a quiet click, so did their lips and within minutes, and with just enough preparation, so did Brian's cock.

Two hours and three rounds of energetic, satisfying and not to mention inventive rounds of sex later, they were done. Justin reluctantly got out of bed and immediately began to get dressed. Brian, however, was rather unwilling to end the night and asked to see Justin's other sketchbooks he mentioned when talking of his European adventure. Surprised and pleased at Brian's interest, Justin complied. He ran to his room, got all his sketchbooks and on a whim grabbed a pencil and a piece of charcoal.

While Brian was looking through four full sketchbooks, Justin was drawing Brian with charcoal, then switched to pencil for a quick study of Brian's face. Brian noticed that he was being drawn and demanded to see the work. Justin agreed to show him only if Brian showed him some of his work as well. Brian grudgingly agreed and gave Justin a version of the pitch and a mini presentation of his ideas for the ads. Brian explained that the client liked the proposal, but wanted the ideas developed further and somewhat tweaked for different media. Justin looked at the slides on Brian's computer again and suggested using orange and blue for print media.

“You see, the juxtaposition of a hot and a cool color in the same ad will jump out at the viewer, but the fact that the colors are complimentary will make the ad pleasing to the eye, rather than jarring,” Justin explained. Brian looked through the presentation slides again and was rather impressed that the kid's suggestion was a good one.

“You know what, Justin? That's not a bad idea at all. I think I'm going to use it,” he looked at Justin and was rewarded with a brilliant smile and a trail of kisses that started up north at this lips and traveled their way south towards his already excited member.

~*~*~*~

Justin awoke at 7 am - pretty early, considering the fact that they didn't drift off to sleep until after three. He looked over and saw that Brian was still asleep. He watched his lover sleep for a couple of minutes and couldn't resist the urge to sketch him again. Half an hour later he got dressed, took a last look around the room, at Brian and walked out of the bedroom. At the last moment, when he reached the door of the sitting room, he stopped, carefully tore the sketch of Brian sleeping that he just drew and left it on top of Brian's laptop on the writing desk. Following another impulse, he wrote a quick note on the hotel stationery, walked back into the bedroom and placed it on the pillow on which he slept. Only then, did Justin leave.

Brian woke up two hours later at once realizing that Justin was gone and that he was alone yet again. He sat up in bed, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, stretched and just as he was about to get up, he saw a piece of stationary on the pillow next to his. 

_Brian,_

_Thanks for another amazing night, or rather, two nights. Best way to end a long overseas vacation, hands down! Good luck with your pitch on Monday. Actually, you don't need luck – the deal's in the bag, I promise you._

_Take care,_

_Justin_

Brian told himself that Justin was right to leave, that it didn't matter, that that's how all his sexual encounters usually ended and that he was glad. He took a long shower, ordered breakfast and decided to check his email while waiting for room service to deliver the food. He was stunned to see another of Justin's tokens lying on top of his laptop – the sketch depicting him nude, asleep on his back, his face peaceful, the sheet elegantly twisted around his ankles and his dick, erect and magically enlarged by a couple of inches, rested on his body. He chuckled at the obvious compliment to his anatomy, but besides that, the rest of the sketch was quite beautifully done and impressive in its detail.

Brian decided that the exquisite drawing was worth at least a thank you kiss, but then he realized that he had no idea in which room Justin and Daphne were staying, apart from it being on the second floor. He called the reception desk and was told that Mr. Taylor and Miss Chanders have checked out abut 30 minutes ago and requested a taxi to Heathrow. Brian remembered Justin saying something about a 12:30 flight back to Pittsburgh.

Thinking of the past two nights, Brian couldn't believe the incredible coincidence of seeing Justin again on the other side of the world and exactly a year after meeting him to boot. He carefully packed Justin's sketch inside a file folder he emptied and slid it in a protected pocket in his suitcase. Before zipping it up, he absentmindedly dropped Justin's note into the folder as well.

 _Well, that was an unexpected bonus. Damn, he's an incredible fuck!_ He thought of his two nights with Justin.

“But now he's gone and I need to get to work,” he said out loud, sat down at the desk, opened his laptop and decisively pushing all thoughts of Justin away got down to business.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would make my day! 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	4. Friday, August 23rd, 2002

_Year Two..._

Justin couldn't get the two nights he spent with Brian at the Dorchester out of his mind. He was largely silent on their plane ride to Pittsburgh, which rather annoyed Daphne. She kept asking about his two night sexcapade with Brian Kinney, but Justin was surprisingly reluctant to divulge any of the details as he has done in the past. For some reason, those details were precious to him and talking of them with anyone, even Daphne, felt somehow wrong. He told Daphne a few pieces of information, all very vague in nature, and when she pressed for him to elaborate, he told her that he wasn't ready to part with it all. He promised to tell her more sometime in the future, when he was ready. Right at the moment, however, Justin realized that his seeing Brian again completely threw him off balance and he needed to get his head on straight and regain his emotional equilibrium before leaving Pittsburgh for Dartmouth. Daphne agreed and didn't press him for any more details.

~*~*~*~

Justin spent an exciting and a busy freshman year at Dartmouth. After his trip to Europe, he was more than ever interested in art, but his father insisted on focusing on business and keeping his art studies on the periphery. At the beginning of the semester, he found out that he could take CLEP tests and if he scored well, he could test out of taking certain basic subjects. He scored exceptionally high in English composition, American history, government, algebra, biology and French; and, thus, was able to get credit for two full semesters worth of classes, effectively starting college a sophomore. He decided that the hateful St. James Academy was good for something after all. Keeping that information close to the vest, Justin signed up for 21 hours of courses with the dean's permission in order to graduate sooner and get out from under his father's thumb. Unfortunately, only one of those courses was an art class.

Justin continued to draw and sketch as much as he possibly could. He experimented with watercolor, acrylic and oil paints, and found that his true passion lay in abstract oil painting. He entered his work in student art shows and competitions to test out the waters. His success at selling sketches to tourists in Europe gave him an idea to try to sell his art locally in order to save money for another European trip the following summer. A couple of local businesses around campus - a small Italian eatery, a coffee shop and an independent bookstore - agreed to display and sell some of his charcoal and pencil sketches of Europe. Displaying his work didn't bring him much money, unfortunately, but it did get him some recognition and by the end of the year two other small local businesses offered to feature his art.

The best thing that happened to Justin the entire year happened at the beginning of the Spring semester. One of his pieces won the grand prize at a student art competition, which was a fully paid 8 week painting seminar at the Florence Academy of Art in Italy in the summer. The seminar was an incredible opportunity for Justin to develop his art in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Unfortunately, he was short on money and even though the competition prize money covered study, as well as room and board, airfare to Italy and any extra travel within the country was the responsibility of the student. Justin was 100% certain that his father wouldn't pay a dime for him to go to Italy to study art, especially since his mother finally decided to leave him and recently filed for divorce. Therefore, it was up to him to earn the cash somehow. Regardless of the fact that he took 21 hours of coursework again in the spring semester, Justin got a job waiting tables at a local diner right off of campus, in order to subsidize his trip to Italy.

~*~*~*~

In the meantime, Brian got the account with the English clothier, just as Justin had predicted. He ended up staying in London for a few extra days at the insistence of his new client, in order to rehash details of the advertising campaign. When Brian returned to Pittsburgh, Gardner Vance blew a fuse when he saw the expense report. Brian responded with his customary aplomb:

“Gardner, I got you a $10 million account, taking this agency international, so stop bitching about a $10,000 hotel bill, OK? Besides, even without this account, you can well afford it.”

“Well, you didn't have to stay in the Junior suite at the fucking Dorchester!”

“Yes, I did – that's all they had available on such short notice, other then the Terrace Suite, that is. If I stayed there, it would have been six grand a night!”

Gardner shut up about the hotel bill, though he continued to grumble about it on occasion. However, when the campaign won another Cleo award, gaining the ad agency more interest from international firms, Gardner promptly forgot all about the exorbitant hotel charge. He told Brian that as long as he continued to bring in $10 million dollar international accounts and Cleos home, he could stay at the Dorchester or any other luxury hotel in the world whenever he fucking pleased. Brian jokingly asked Gardner if he could have that in writing. His boss rendered him utterly speechless when instead of laughing it off, he in complete seriousness promoted Brian to Senior Partner with a 15% stake in the company. The ink was barely dry on his new partnership contract when Brian's work-load increased yet again, as did his travel.

Half a year went by in a blink of an eye and Brian was hardly ever home. Brian continued to work hard and play harder when he did have time, which was becoming more and more rare. Playing pool with the boys at Woody's a couple of times a week, was a thing of the past. He was lucky if he managed that twice a month with his travel schedule. As for the nights at Babylon, they suffered the same fate. If Brian was in town on a weekend, he did his best to keep up with his reputation as the Stud of Liberty Avenue, but those weekends diminished over time as his responsibilities at VanGard grew. By end of the year, if he was at Babylon fucking the night away once a month, Brian was happy. His lunchtime trips to the baths only happened when he was in town and not with the expected regularity. Similarly, his drinking and drug use diminished proportionately to his increasing success at work. Even though Brian missed his previous debauched lifestyle on occasion, he was actually happy in his work and enjoyed it a great deal, regardless of the fact that he was exhausted and lonely most of the time, especially when out on travel.

In the summer, he finally had time for a relatively extended vacation. He wanted to leave around labor day, but an argument between him and Melanie escalated to the point where she banned him from Gus's birthday party. Lindsay, as usual, tried to play mediator, but this time so unsuccessfully that it made things actually worse. When Brian got angry and tried to assert his rights, Melanie sweetly reminded him that he gave up his parental rights and should just get out of their lives altogether. Lindsay stayed silent. Enraged, Brian stormed out of their house and got a ticket bound for Ibiza the very next day. Gardner OK'd his sudden departure and Brian left Pittsburgh for two weeks of sex, partying and other usual means of pain management.

~*~*~*~

_Summer..._

Justin's roommate at the painting seminar in Florence was Kirill Mironov, the son of a Russian oligarch. He spoke perfect English, except, strangely, with an upper-crust British accent and was a student at the prestigious Moscow State University studying International Relations. He laughed when Justin commented on his speech. Kirill explained that his father was part of the diplomatic service in the 80's and early 90's and his family lived in England for a few years. After their return to Russia, he had a British tutor for years who helped him with schoolwork; later, in high-school he spent a year in London in a study-abroad program.

Kirill was a rather talented artist, but art was only a hobby for him. His artistic talent was something he inherited from his mother, who was an art teacher at a Moscow art school of some renown. For him, painting was purely a pleasure, an outlet for self-expression, not a compulsive need to create, like it was for Justin. Art wasn't Kirill's vocation, global trade and politics were. The only reason he was at this seminar at all was to please his mother, who was ever hopeful that he would change his mind and pursue art as a career instead.

Kirill was an incredibly outgoing, gregarious sort of guy, who within an hour of meeting Justin, told him most of his life's story, showed him a few pictures of his family and friends, and told him everything about his girlfriend, whom he hoped to marry right after graduation from university. As soon as he was done, he peppered Justin with questions about his life. Justin was vaguely aware that homosexuality was even more taboo in Russia than in the US, so he was hesitant to disclose his sexuality to his roommate. He told him the bare bones about his life and concentrated on his artistic aspirations instead. Justin struggled with what to do for about two days and finally decided that honesty was the best policy. He told his roommate that they needed to talk and quietly came out. He told Kirill that if he wanted to switch roommates, there would be no hard feelings at all. Kirill's response was to get out his wallet and show him a picture of a young man that could've been his twin. It turned out that the beautiful young man was Kirill's older brother, Alexander, who was murdered one night several years before on his way home from a club. It seemed someone saw him kissing his boyfriend, followed them out of the club and shot them both execution style. The killer, or killers, if there were more than one, was never found or prosecuted.

Kirill said that his parents found out that Sasha, as they called him, was gay by complete accident. They didn't approve, but they loved their son enough to turn a blind eye to his life. It was their family's version of “don't ask, don't tell.” He found out by accident too. When coming home from school one day Kirill found his brother trying to hang himself in the bathroom. He got him down, saved him and held him while his brother cried like a baby and confessed all of his “sins”. Kirill said that if he ever was a homophobe before, he certainly wasn't after that. Seeing his brother that way opened his eyes and mind, and after that he became his brother's confidant. While his parents knew who his lover was, they've never formally met or ever acknowledged him. Kirill, however, had met him and had considered him a friend. When he saw them together he knew without a shadow of a doubt that they truly loved each other. Losing them both that way was a blow he'll never forget or get over. He said that his parents were inconsolable at the funeral and bitterly regretted not being more accepting. Unfortunately, it was too late.

Kirill's story was shocking and Justin listened to it, transfixed, still and silent. Once he was done, Kirill said that he had no problems whatsoever having a gay roommate, especially a nice _bloke_ like Justin and hoped that they would become good friends. They shook hands and then Kirill surprised Justin further by pulling him into a bear hug. They hugged, laughed and then Kirill sat back down on his bed and asked, “OK, now tell me all about your boyfriend!”

Justin laughed and said that, unfortunately, he didn't have one.

Over the next eight weeks, Kirill and Justin did become fast friends and were pretty much inseparable throughout the length of the art program. They explored Florence together during the week and traveled all over Italy on weekends. At the end of the seventh week, Kirill convinced Justin to postpone his flight home at the end of the program and instead come with him to Ibiza for a week of vacation. Apparently, his family had a place there, right on the beach. His girlfriend was flying in from Moscow and it promised to be a fun time.

~*~*~*~

Friday afternoon Justin, Kirill, his girlfriend Rita, short for Margarita, were playing beach volleyball with a few other beach bums and having the time of their life. Suddenly, the opposing team's serve went rogue and the ball flew above Justin's head towards the water. He ran backwards, as quickly as he could, while looking at the trajectory of the ball; then he jumped up in the air with his hands up, trying to catch the ball as it descended. He caught it mid-air, his body slightly twisting and arching gracefully backwards. The whole thing took seconds and as he triumphantly touched down on the sand he thought it was a pretty awesome catch. A second later, a hard body plowed straight into him at full speed taking them both down in a tangle of limbs and a shower of sand. When Justin got his breath back the first words to come out of his mouth were “What the fuck?”

“That's what I'd like to know! Use your fucking eyes, why don't you,” said an irritated voice somewhere by his ear.

They disentangled themselves and got up trying to brush sand from their eyes, bodies and hair. When they finally looked at each other, both froze in complete amazement. Justin was the first one to recover and his face broke out in a brilliant smile that lit up his entire face.

“Brian!”

“God, we've go to stop meeting like this, Sunshine,” Brian said, his usual smirk gracing his face.

“Sunshine?”

Brian frowned, “I have no idea why I just called you that, but somehow it totally fits. Blame it on the beach and the sun. What the hell are you doing here, Justin?”

“You remember me! I wasn't sure you would, Brian.”

“It's kind of difficult to forget an artistic genius who before sneaking out of my hotel room left me a signed portrait that was so very, very generous to one particular part of my anatomy.”

“You still have it?” Justin asked surprised.

“I have it framed and hanging in my bedroom in a very prominent place where one and all can take in the awesome view, before 'taking in' the real thing, if you know what I mean,” Brian said making Justin laugh out loud.

Their reunion was interrupted by Kirill, who ran over to make sure Justin was OK and to retrieve the forgotten volleyball. Justin assured his friend that he was all right and introduced Brian as an acquaintance from his home town. Kirill asked if he'll rejoin the game and invited Brian to play also. Brian and Justin looked at each other and without words understood that if they would play anything, it sure as hell wouldn't be beach volleyball. Brian declined and Justin told Kirill that he'd better sit this one out and catch up with his friend. Kirill smirked, reminded him not to forget his sketchpad on the beach, reclaimed the volley ball and ran back to rejoin the game.

Brian and Justin haven't moved an inch when they were alone again.

“So, you haven't answered my question, what are you doing in Ibiza?” Brian continued as if they weren't interrupted.

“Vacation before fall semester starts.” Justin briefly told Brian about winning the art competition, the two month painting seminar in Florence, making friends with Kirill and being invited to his parents' villa.

“What about you? Don't tell me you have a client here?” Justin asked, curious.

“No, thank God! Two week vacation – my first real break in over a year. Just arrived a couple of hours ago, actually, and decided to go for a run. When are you leaving?”

“Sunday. My flight leaves at 3 o'clock in the afternoon on the 25th. Where are you staying?”

“Resort a couple of miles down,” Brian replied.

“I know it. They have an outdoor club right on the beach with live music nightly - great drinks, awesome music and incredible looking men. You'll have the best vacation, I guarantee it!” Justin said with a smile.

“Oh, I know. Not my first time in these parts, believe me.” Suddenly Brian's stomach growled rather loudly and they both chuckled at the sound.

“Hungry?” Justin asked.

“Yeah, I haven't eaten anything since that abysmal 'meal' on the plane this morning. I should probably run back to my hotel, get some dinner.”

“Or...you could hang out with us at Kirill's place,” Justin offered hopefully. “I normally wouldn't invite someone new into someone elses' house, but we've had people we just met on the beach over for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day this past week. Neither he nor his girlfriend would mind or care if you join us.”

“His girlfriend?” Brian frowned, “I thought you might've been together.”

“No!” Justin laughed. “Kirill's totally straight and we are just friends. He's a pretty awesome cook, as is his girlfriend, so you won't be disappointed. Interested?”

“Fuck, yes, I am interested!” Brian decided on the spur of the moment. “Lead the way.”

When they made it back to Kirill, Rita and the rest of the beach bums, the volleyball game was breaking up and everyone was getting ready to go back to the house to get some food. Brian was expecting a typical twenty-something college-kids-on-vacation food consisting of burgers, if he was lucky, and hot dogs, if he wasn't. However, at this point he was too hungry to care. To his immense surprise Kirill decided to make what they called “pilaf” - a Russian twist on paella, with chicken, lots of garlic, onion, carrots, tomatoes and various spices. He roped everyone into helping him prepare the dish, which he said would take about an hour to cook. While the dish was simmering on the stove, everyone dug into a couple of different vegetable salads that Rita prepared while no one was looking. Seemingly out of nowhere a 24 pack of beer, a couple of bottles of wine, a bottle of vodka, club soda and several fruit juices for mixing appeared on the table and everyone helped themselves to whatever they liked. Brian stuck to beer, since his favorite Jim Bean wasn't available. He looked at the half a dozen college kids around him, not counting Justin and his hosts, who were all enthusiastically getting a round of drinks and shook his head. 

“What?” Justin asked curiously.

“I just wondered how many of them will end up passed out, throwing up or worse by the end of the night right here in Kirill's house, for him and his girlfriend to clean up.”

Justin laughed. “None of them, I assure you. Well, maybe the Americans will, but we'll make sure they get to their own hotel room safely, so they can throw up and pass out there.” He nodded towards a couple of guys who hailed from Syracuse, New York – both were nineteen and have never been outside the states before.

“Why specifically the Americans? Besides, you are one yourself.”

“Yeah, but I've been to Europe before. Daphne and I spent exactly one night getting completely fucking shit-faced - legally - when we got to Paris last year and it was totally enough. The rest of the time we drank whenever we wanted to, but in moderation. We wanted to have a good time and we wanted to try new things – local wine, different types of beer, new mixed drinks, whatever - but, we also wanted to remember what the fuck they were and what they tasted like the next day. Most of the people here have been legally able to drink since they've been 18. I'm pretty sure the Russian's have been able to drink since the age of 16, so being able to legally buy and drink alcohol seized to be a novelty for them about four years ago. Trust me, everyone will get pretty drunk, everyone will have a blast and everyone, except perhaps - though they may prove me wrong - the Americans, will stop drinking ju-u-ust shy of waking up with a massive hangover in the morning. And tomorrow, we'll all get up bright eyed and bushy tailed to repeat it all all over again.”

“Well, that has NOT been my experience,” Brian said, “and, though I hate to admit it, I have 12 years on you and most of your friends. In my experience most college kids and some people my age, myself included on occasion, drink specifically to get completely fucking drunk, especially when they are in Europe. So, I guess we'll see how this turns out.”

“Wanna bet on it? I'm game,” Justin said mischievously.

“Why, Sunshine, I didn't know you were a betting man!” Brian smirked.

“I am when the occasion calls for it,” Justin quipped and smiled brightly.

“OK,” Brian thought for a minute, then said, “If you lose, you'll spend the night with me at the resort. If I lose, I'll spend the night with you at the resort.”

Justin's eyebrows rose to his hairline. “So, basically, win or lose  _we_ spend the night at the resort together?”

“Basically,” Brian answered, curling his lips inward in a pretty pathetic attempt to prevent a self-satisfied smirk from appearing on his face.

“You know what, Brian, I think I like those odds. You are on!” They solemnly shook hands, while looking straight into each others eyes and doing their very best not to smile. The exchange was observed by Kirill completely unbeknownst to them.

While they were waiting for the Russian pilaf to finish cooking, Brian asked Justin to show him the sketchbook that Kirill mentioned at the beach. Kirill overheard and said,

“Sketchbook? You mean sketchbooks – plural! He's got about a dozen in his room. Justin, you should show him your work. Oh, don't forget to show him the canvas.”

“Canvas?” Brian's interest peaked even more.

Justin blushed and shrugged, “I decided to paint an ocean scene based on the view from my room as a gift to Kirill and his parents for welcoming me here. It's almost finished.”

“Show me!” Brian commanded. Justin led him to his room on the second floor of the house. He first showed him his almost completed oil on canvas, which depicted a beach scene at sunset, with rolling waves crashing onto the shore and a lonely figure walking along the surf. It was a melancholy piece that tugged at Brian's heart, despite the vibrant and rich colors that Justin used. For some reason, it made him think of all the lonely hours he spent in hotel rooms while traveling for work during the past year.

“This is exquisite...” Brian said quietly. “Are you still studying business at Dartmouth?”

He remembered a very brief conversation in London a year ago about Justin pursuing studies in business. They got distracted by each others nakedness for the umpteenth time and never finished their conversation.

“Yes, why?” Justin asked in confusion.

“You are wasting your time and your talent,” Brian said, still riveted by the canvas. “Do you remember Lindsey, my son's mom? You met her the night we met, when Gus was born.”

“Of course, I do! How could I forget? I named a child that day, it's not something one forgets. How is he? How is she?” Justin asked eagerly.

“Both are great,” Brian evaded, he didn't want to talk about munchers more than it was absolutely necessary. “But the reason I mentioned Lindsey is that she is, or was, an art history professor and a minor artist herself. She's currently working for an art gallery in Pittsburgh as a curator. I've known her long enough and went to enough art shows with her to know that she'll fucking love this. Let me see your drawings.” He went through about a dozen sketchbooks, surprised to see his own visage and body in several studies peppered throughout the notebooks.

“Care to explain?” He asked curiously, pointing to a nude study of himself in one of the last sketchbooks that was dated about two weeks ago. Justin blushed furiously, but explained in a calm voice, that belied his inner feelings.

“You have a very well proportioned body, pretty much perfect by classical standards. Your face is very expressive and compelling. I used you as a model to improve my technique,” He lied. In fact, he thought of and dreamed of that body so often over the past year it was becoming an obsession. He drew, sketched and painted Brian's face and body enough to have memorized every angle and plane.

“Technique, huh?” Brain said quietly and smiled. “Well, I'm flattered, Justin. Thank you, truly.”

“You are welcome,” Justin said, slightly self-conscious.

“About these sketches - they are phenomenal. You need to show them to someone. Listen, are you listening?”

“Yes, I am listening.”

“I can take a few of them and show them to Lindsey. I think they are amazing, but I am not a professional in the field. Lindsey is and she has contacts in art circles.”

“No!” Justin said vehemently.

“Why the fuck not?” 

“Brian, this is amateur stuff. I haven't really had much formal training. I've only been able to take a couple of art classes - one each semester, apart from this seminar in Florence,” Justin tried to explain. “Besides, all this isn't really me. This is all very derivative, mediocre stuff. I tend to go for the abstract, but the classical foundation is paramount. My father will only pay for my art courses if I complete a business degree...”

“That's bullshit, Justin!” Brian exclaimed, suddenly angry. “Whose life are you living, his or yours?”

“Mine! Mine, Brian, because I know how to play the game and turn unpleasant circumstances to my advantage,” Justin said with conviction. “I was accepted to PIFA, you know? They have only 75 spaces available and over two thousand applicants try to get in every year – and I got in! Completely on merit and talent. I chose, CHOSE, to to go Dartmouth because it was the smart thing to do. My father made me an ultimatum – either I choose business and he foots the bill, or I choose art and be out on my ass without a penny or an education. I could have folded and blindly complied with all of his demands, which included me renouncing my sexuality, being a monk or dating a girl. Instead, of just taking that crap, I found a compromise. I got my father to agree to pay out-of-state tuition for a dual degree in business administration and art, as long as business is a priority. And as long as I don't 'flaunt my lifestyle' and embarrass him in front his fraternity buddies at alumni meetings. He 'magnanimously' agreed to my compromise, thinking that he won one over on me. The reality is that it's all posturing bullshit, because deep-down he doesn't care enough to look too closely – as long as I have business courses on my transcript every semester, he's happy to pay, without not knowing my entire plan. Do you know that this fall semester I'll be in my junior year already?”

“How? You've only been in school a year?” Brian was clearly surprised.

“I've CLEPed out of two semesters worth of basic courses. I paid for the tests myself, so my father doesn't know. I've been taking an extra load of classes with the dean's permission in order to graduate early. If I can get my business requirements out of the way in under three years, saving my father thousands of dollars in tuition, he'll have no choice, but to shut up when I concentrate completely on my art the last year or so. In the meantime, I've taken one art class per semester in order to use the university studio and to qualify for student art shows and competitions. One of those competitions is what got me this seminar, which counts towards my art degree, by the way. I plan to do the same thing this coming year as well. My end goal is to do whatever the hell I fucking want after graduation day, which is basically paint to my hearts' content until the day I die. But you know what, I won't be a starving artist living for pennies, relying on the charity of others and beholden to some benefactor for my room and board. With an art degree I can teach art in school, work in a museum or an art gallery. With a business degree I can find a job somewhere as whatever-the-fuck during the day and paint at night. With an art  _and_  a business degree I could go into advertising – you gave me that idea last year when you said you'd use the color-scheme I suggested for your ad. Bottom line is, Brian, I will have the means to do what I want on my own terms. I will have options and choices, and _no student loans to pay off!_  Trust me, Brian, I know _exactly_  what I am doing. So, going back to your offer... Thank you! Really, it means a lot to me that you would show my work to someone so close to you, but it's too soon. Portraits, landscapes and all that pastoral crap is easy – I am good at it and I am doing my best to get better every day, with every drawing. But underneath it all, it's not me. It's not what my art is, it's not what I want to paint, but I  _need_  to learn everything I can in terms of classical technique, with classical mediums in order to make what I ultimately crave to create.”

Brian was listening to Justin talk completely mesmerized – the absolute conviction, the total self-confidence and the intense passion with which he spoke were so incredibly sexy, so arousing, he didn't know how to contain himself. He has never been so fucking turned on in his entire life just by listening to someone talk and not even about sex. Brian's sexual experience was vast and all-encompassing. He has tried and done everything imaginable and some things unimaginable since he hit puberty at age 13. He has engaged in some pretty raunchy phone sex, where he was able to get the person on the other end of the line off just by talking, as he had the same done to him once or twice, but none of that – neither physical, nor auditory - compared with the kind of hard-on he was experiencing just listening to this blond 19-year-old kid, with icy blue fire in his unfathomable eyes, talk about his art and his dreams, and plans for the future. When Justin stopped talking somewhat abruptly, the sketchbook Brian held fell on the floor unnoticed and he strode up to Justin who was standing near his almost completed canvas. Brian got into his personal space to the point where their bodies were almost flush together, looked down at Justin's face, which registered surprise, and growled:

“I want you so fucking much I can barely breathe!”

He he waited a heartbeat or two then he grabbed Justin's face with his hands and kissed him as if his life depended on it. They pressed ever closer together, eyes closed, their lips devouring each others. Justin's fingers wove and tangled in Brian's auburn locks; while Brian was trying to press Justin even closer to his body with one hand almost lifting him off of his feet, while his other hand found its way inside Justin's swim trunks and was enthusiastically kneading his ass. They were completely lost in each other and in the moment and didn't hear the knock on the door, or Kirill's call. They didn't notice when the door opened and Kirill walked in and witnessed the passion between them, standing there motionless, observing them for a couple of minutes. They continued making out, oblivious, when Kirill loudly cleared his throat – twice – to no effect whatsoever. They finally broke apart and looked around like guilty children, with identical expressions of bewilderment on their faces, when Kirill finally shouted at the top of his lungs “Lads! Dinner's ready!”

Then he laughed and said, “You are going to need food, fuel for later...I am doing this for your own good, you know, you'll thank me tomorrow!”

When both Brian and Justin somewhat robotically tried to follow him out of the bedroom, he laughed again and looking pointedly at their crotch area suggested that they splash some cold water on their faces and maybe come down to get food in about five minutes. Justin blushed crimson from the neck up to the roots of his hair, while Brian just smirked and said, “I think I like that kid!”

They did as Kirill suggested and came downstairs in a few minutes. They ate heaping bowls of a hot, fragrant rice dish, that was very different from the Spanish paella that was familiar to everyone present, but delicious in it's very unique way. After dinner they all decided to take in an evening swim before going clubbing at the resort. Brian was about to suggest to Justin that they skip all of it, but then he remembered their “bet” and decided to follow along with everyone instead.

~*~*~*~

The nearby resort where the whole party headed and where Brian happened to stay was gay friendly with many same sex couples vacationing and partaking of the nights festivities. The resort had two clubs on premises – an indoor and an outdoor venue on the beach. Brian, Justin, Kirill and the rest of their party decided to stay at the outdoor club, which featured a huge wooden dance floor filled to capacity with gay and hetero couples dancing to a thumpa-thumpa beat coming from the DJ station set up on one side of the dance floor. There was a full bar on the other side of the dance floor and an small stage for live acts. The resort advertised live music nightly, but it looked like whatever band that was booked for that Friday night wasn't going to come on stage until later at night.

Brian and Justin followed the rest of their party to the crowded bar. Thankfully, the resort staff were well trained and extremely efficient at dealing with a large crowd of club-goers. Within a few minutes, Brian and Justin had a couple of shots of Beam in their hands and their evening was well underway.

They downed their drinks and then Brian pulled Justin onto the dance floor by pinching a bit of fabric of his tight fitting cotton t-shit in a dark blue color that looked incredible against his skin. The DJ was good, playing mostly various club remixes of popular songs that were so conducive to dancing and reminded Brian strongly of Babylon, albeit an outdoor one and without a backroom.

Brian and Justin danced together exclusively for about forty minutes. To Brian's delight Justin turned out to be an incredible dancer, which made things considerably easy for him – all he had to do was plaster his hips against Justin as close as he possibly could and follow along. Justin found Brian's lack of prowess on the dance floor infinitely endearing, considering how capable he was in every other aspect of his life. His lack of dancing skill made him somehow more human and Justin reveled in the sensation of leading Brian for a change.

Brian and Justin continued dancing together and didn't notice when the DJ gave way to the live band that took the stage around 10 PM. The band played mostly covers, but they were good and everyone enjoyed themselves. The boys took short breaks to use the restroom and to get a quick shot of Beam at the bar, but inevitably, they returned to the dance floor together.

Around one A.M. the band left the stage and another DJ took over for the last couple of hours. Brian and Justin, still dancing close together in a crowded dance floor were completely lost in each other and didn't notice the change until the DJ put Massive Attack on rotation beginning with "Inertia Creeps." It's downtempo beat, the hypnotic rhythm, the low, raspy vocals were pure sex and the already overheated atmosphere on the dance floor amped-up the sexual charge until the slowly writhing mass of bodies looked and felt like one big dancing orgy.

Pretty soon Brian couldn't stand it any longer. He was so incredibly turned on and he was certain that Justin was too, if the hard-on that was frotting against his own was anything to go by, that he was convinced that if the two of them didn't leave the club immediately, he would lose all sanity, all control and fuck Justin right then and there. He looked around and realized that none of the people in their party were around anymore.

“So, who won?” Justin asked, apparently his thoughts exactly aligned with Brian's.

“No idea, Justin, but it's probably me,” he answered as they swayed to  _Angel_. “Do you care?”

“Not even in the slightest,” Justin said and suddenly kissed him. They made out as the last of the song faded away.

“Wanna get the fuck out of here?” Brian rasped.

“Love to,” Justin whispered.

They left the club and hurried to Brian's suite, periodically making out on the way. As soon as they cleared the hotel suite door, they dived at each other and spend the next several hours in bed and in about half a dozen other places of the spacious room. They fell asleep around five am, curled together, completely exhausted, but sated and utterly happy.

~*~*~*~

Brian woke up alone and his first thought was  _“Fuck! He left...not again!”_  But as his caffeine deprived brain started to process various sounds around him, he realized that the shower was on. He walked into the beautifully appointed bathroom and saw Justin standing under the water – hands braced against the wall for support, eyes closed, as water cascaded down his lithe body. Brian quickly got into the shower and immediately took care of his morning wood withing Justin's willing and eager body.

When they got out of the shower, Brian ordered breakfast to be brought to his room.

“Do you know Kirill's telephone number?” He asked over a place of an egg white omelet and dry wheat toast.

“Yes, he has a cell. Why?” Justin asked mystyfied.

“I'd like to spend the day with you before you leave for the states,” Brian said simply, somewhat surprising himself by the desire to do so.

“You do? Why?” Justin was clearly surprised.

“I don't know. Because you are hot as hell; because you are an extraordinary fuck and coming from me it's high praise indeed, believe me! Because despite the difference in our ages you are interesting to talk to, because you are smart...and, finally, because it's what I fucking want and I always get what I fucking want!”

“You do, huh? OK, just this once,” Justin joked. He called Kirill and told him about spending the day at the resort with Brian. Kirill laughed and said he knew that that's what would happen anyway and wished them both to have fun.

“How?” Justin asked curiously, “How did you know?”

“You look at each other the way my brother and his boyfriend looked at each other. It's rare, that kind of look – it's not something I'll forget or fail to recognize,” Kirill answered without hesitation.

“What?” Justin whispered astonished.

“That's not just an old friend from your home town, Justin. You are going to have to tell me who he is and before you leave,” Kirill demanded. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Justin said quietly and quickly hung up the phone. Kirill's words shook Justin to the core – he's been trying to unsuccessfully convince himself that whatever he felt for Brian was just a silly crush that eventually would go away. The reality was that each time he saw Brian, that feeling only grew and intensified. Each new tid-bit he learned about Brian made him fall for the man again and again. The problem was that he couldn't do anything about those feelings. For all he knew, even though Brian broke his rules by fucking him multiple times, it didn't mean he suddenly believed in relationships. Therefore, Justin didn't want Brian to know he still harbored such decidedly romantic feelings for the man, so he did his best to hide them as much as he could. However, if Kirill could see into him so well and could read Justin's feelings so clearly, then Brian might be able to do so also. 

 _On the other hand,_ Justin thought,  _Brian hasn't said anything about me acting in any way clingy...or weird. Besides, he's the one who suggested to spend the day together._

Justin didn't want to bring on any sort of emotional pain, especially 24 hours before his departure for the U.S. So, he pushed his feelings aside, hiding his inner turmoil, and decided to concentrate on enjoying the day with Brian.

They spend a day at the resort, mostly in Brian' suite talking and laughing in between rounds of joyful sex. They did venture out for a couple of hours right after lunch. Justin went back to Kirill's house for a little bit in order to finish his canvas, which needed just a few minor details added. Brian insisted on coming with Justin, saying that he wanted to watch him paint.

They went back to the resort for dinner, which they had in Brian's suite and talked about their lives over the past year while enjoying a delicious, chilled seafood appetizer and grilled fish over steamed vegetables. Brian asked Justin about his school work, about his art and more about the painting seminar in Italy. Justin happily shared all the details that Brian wanted to know. When the topic of his love life came up, Justin laughed and said that he was way too busy with school, painting and work for boyfriends, but he had a few one night stands, which he didn't really care for. He admitted to Brian that he didn't enjoy himself the first couple of times with other guys because they were amateurs in bed and didn't seem to know what the hell they were doing. After that, he pretty much stopped bottoming for men, especially those his own age, and from then on was always the one to top. He told Brian that he liked that a lot more, but he has never enjoyed himself as much in bed as when he was with Brian. Brian, clearly flattered at the compliment, said that practice makes perfect and that things will get better with age.

Justin quickly agreed with him and then abruptly changing the subject asked about Brian's life over the past year. Brian told him about becoming a Senior Partner at his firm, about his various clients, his travel for work, his son and his friends. He told Justin of the Cleo awarded for the ad campaign which used Justin's color scheme suggestion in print media. He told Justin in all seriousness that if Justin ever needed an internship, he's have one at VanGard in a New York minute, no interview required. Justin laughed and said that he'll definitely think about it. Then Brian surprised himself by telling Justin about a nascent dream of his that no one else knew about. He told Justin that he used to dream about working for a big firm in New York, but recently he's been thinking that he'd rather start his own ad agency someday. Justin's eyes lit up and he said that it was an absolutely fantastic idea.

“Brian, you should definitely go for it. You'd be amazing and so would your agency! Hey,” he exclaimed suddenly, his eyes widened and his entire face lit up as an idea suddenly came to him, “I think I know what you should call it, whenever you end up opening it -  _Kinnetik_.”

“Oh, two N's, that's clever,” Brian laughed, but there was a speculative gleam in his eye as the idea took hold in his mind.

“No, that's genius!” Justin said impishly.

~*~*~*~

They went back to the club in the evening and spent most of the night dancing together. At one point Kirill and Rita appeared next to them and Kirill asked to cut in. Both Brian and Justin were surprised, but complied. Brian started dancing with Rita and she somehow managed to steer them several feet away, safely far enough from hearing distance. Kirill grabbed Justin by the waist with one hand, took his other hand in his, stretched it out in front of them and proceeded to mock-tango, which was comical to say the least. After a few minutes of such silliness both friends broke apart, laughing and started more-or-less dancing in one spot rhythmically gyrating to the pulsating music.

“So, tell me,” Kirill demanded.

“He's my first,” Justin replied simply.

“And you told me you didn't have a boyfriend!”

“I don't. Brian doesn't do boyfriends. He does one night stands and never repeats one twice...well, I guess, except for me. We've been sort of running into each other once a year in different places, around the same time, funnily enough. We talk, we have sex and we go our separate ways. That's it.”

“But, the way you look at each other...”

“Kirill, that's attraction, lust, even 'like'... a strong like, but nothing more. I guarantee you that. Us seeing each other on the same day for the past three years, has been complete and total coincidence. You know how they say, 'third time's the charm'? Well, this was the third time that we ran into each other like that. More than likely this was the last time and we won't see each other ever again.”

“On the same day? For the past three years?”

“Yeah, August 23rd, for the past three years – different towns, countries, islands, continents...”

“I say that's fate, not coincidence. Us Russians, we are a superstitious lot, we believe in all sorts of shit. Most of those superstitions are mostly bollocks, but some of them are based on something real. So I say it's fate! Don't believe me, if you don't want to, but I know what I saw between you two yesterday at the house and when you were dancing together last night and today – it's a lot more than just _like_.”

A few seconds later Brian and Rita made their way back towards them, Rita demanded her man back and Brian and Justin were left alone again.

“What was that about?” Brian asked.

“Oh, nothing. He's curious about you, that's all,” Justin evaded.

“Oh, well, that's understandable,” Brian joked. “You want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

They went up to Brian's suite and spend the rest of the night enjoying each other.

~*~*~*~

August 25th came way too soon and Justin was the first to get up again around 9 that Sunday morning. Brian woke up just a few minutes later. He knew that Justin's plane was at 3 pm and he still needed to go to Kirill's house to to pack for the return trip to the states. Even knowing that, for some unfathomable to him reason, Brian wanted to stop Justin from leaving. He wanted to insist on something, anything – a shower, breakfast, one more round, one more kiss – but he ended up saying nothing at all. He stayed in bed, sitting with his back propped up against the headboard and silently watched as Justin got dressed and walked towards the door.

Suddenly, Justin turned around, put his hands up to up to his eye, pretending his fingers were a camera. He mimicked taking a picture by depressing his index finger while making a clicking sound with his tongue and then quietly said,

“Now I have a picture of you to take with me. Take care, Brian.”

“You too, Sunshine,” he answered quietly.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. A comment or two would be swell!


	5. Saturday, August 23rd, 2003

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews would be most welcome! Thank you for reading.

 

“ _...Recollect me darling raise me to your lips  
Two undernourished egos four rotating hips...”_

 

“Fuck... oh, fuck!”

 

“ _...Hold on to me tightly I'm a sliding scale_  
Can't endure then you can't inhale  
Clearly...”

 

“God, I'm coming! I'mcomingI'mcomingI'mco....”

 

“ _...Out of body experience interferes  
And dreams of flying I fit nearly...”_

 

“...mingI'mcoming...”

 

“Wait...fuck...wait,” he whispered harshly as he gripped his lover's hips tighter to keep them in place.

 

“ _...Surrounds me though I get lonely  
Slowly...”_

 

He pounded ever harder into a tight ass, legs resting on his shoulders, entire body quivering, the muscles bunched up and straining for release. The table shook with their movements, threatening imminent collapse and disturbing a glass of read wine that suddenly spilled its contents onto the table.

 

“... _Moving up slowly  
Inertia keeps...”_

 

“Now, Sunshine...Now!” His lover suddenly shuddered, blue eyes snapped open and rolled backwards, back arched and his hands flew up to his face for a second, then tangled in his sunny blond hair. Then his lover released a long, low moan and copiously came all over his stomach as his fingers tore at his hair, which triggered Brian's own orgasm.

“God, that was fucking amazing!” Said a very un-Sunshine-like voice a couple of minutes later. Brian opened his eyes and immediately realized that the guy whose ass his dick was buried balls-deep into had muddy-brown eyes instead of sky blue and somewhat curly, equally dull-looking brown hair that felt coarse and thin to the touch, instead of a shiny, silky, thick mop of gorgeous blond.

 _Fucking Anita, I'm going to kill that fucking bitch! I'm hallucinating now? That's it! That's fucking it - no more buying drugs from that piece of alley trash..._ Brian thought furiously and roughly pulled out of the man - who was definitely not his lover, just some anonymous trick - not caring about his comfort of lack thereof.

 _Actually, I better just stick to pot and forgo anything else altogether from now on. At least I know I won't be hallucinating off of that shit._  Brian decided as he threw the trick his clothes and told him to get the fuck out. When he asked for a shower, Brian told him to wear his spunk proudly as he bodily removed the still naked man from the loft. When the trick angrily shouted, wondering “Why the best fucks are always such assholes?” Brian's response was to unceremoniously slam the heavy sliding door home and lock the deadbolt with a practiced flick of the wrist.

He stalked towards the liquor cart by the kitchen island, slammed a shot of Jim Beam and as it burned a pleasant path down his throat, Brian realized that he wasn't all that high or drunk for that matter. Compared to the night he took Justin's virginity and fucked him in to the mattress for the first time here at the loft, he was practically sober.

“I am thinking about him again. That's just great, fan-fucking-tastic!” Brian said aloud sarcastically in a quiet loft, then another realization hit him – it wasn't all that quiet. He purposefully strode to his stereo and hit stop, cutting off the last strains of “ _Angel.”_

“Apparently this is yet another band I can't fucking listen to anymore.”

Brian shook his head, but deciding that this was for his own good, he took “Mezzanine” out of the CD player and threw it in the trash. Since he couldn't really blame his hallucination on drugs or booze, at least not completely, Brian decided to blame it on the music. A couple years ago  _Portishead_  was making him think of Justin; but ever since Ibiza it's been  _Massive Attack_. “Mezzanine” was especially responsible for all sorts of disturbing thoughts and completely unacceptable utterances of words like “lover,” since it was the album to which Justin and he danced for what seemed like hours at the Ibiza resort.

It's been several weeks since Ibiza, since Justin walked out of the hotel room taking that silly mock “picture” with his fingers. Brian had no idea why that image refused to fade from his mind; why that particular moment – more than their fucking, or their dancing, or their conversations – lingered behind his eyes when he thought of the blond, although he thought about all of the above also. And that was another disturbing thing, Justin lurking in the corners of his mind – it happened way too often for comfort. For the past three months he's been trying to figure out why that was and he finally came up with an acceptable to him answer – music.

“Fucking trip hop's triggering it!” Brian said confidently in the now deadly quiet loft.  _Well...and the lack of sex is probably a contributing factor,_ he thought with chagrin.

His daily quota of two fucks and a blow job hasn't been that in a couple of years due to his steadily increasing workload and travel. By any regular man's standards, be he homo or hetero, having any kind of actual sex with another human being once a day, three or four times a week would be a dream come true. For Brian, whose sex drive was much higher than a “regular man's,” such numbers were close to being dangerously low. He concluded that that was the reason why he kept thinking of Justin and of the hours he had spent with him in London and Ibiza – although it was only two nights in each place and a year apart, it was the most consecutive hours he spent fucking somebody and the quality of said fucking was beyond compare.

He needed to stop thinking about the blond twink, since there was no way they would see each other again. His solution, therefore, was to stop listening to the “triggering” music and to ramp up his sex life and its variety as much as he possibly could. Brian was able to accomplish the first part of his solution quite well, the second half didn't quite work out when Chief Stockwell entered his life.

~*~*~*~

When Justin got back to the States he dove into his second year at Dartmouth with the same zeal as before only now he was more determined than ever to graduate early and to succeed. Brian's success, his total self-reliance, his complete self-confidence that bordered on arrogance and absolute belief that he could do anything despite any and all odds were thoroughly inspiring, not to mention arousing. A few of their conversations during the day they spent together centered around Justin's own plans and dreams for the future, expanding on the almost-fight they had over Justin studying business. Somehow, without actually saying the words “I believe in you” Brian somehow let Justin know through little comments like the one about the internship, through gestures and in other subtle ways, that he did believe in Justin absolutely and that he thought Justin was capable of achieving everything he desired.

Justin wanted to prove Brian right. He wanted to be proud of himself and to make Brian proud of him by extension, even if they never see each other again. To that end, Justin took 21 hours per semester again to speed up his graduation and continued to paint in his free time, selling his work in businesses around the campus. He continued to enter his art into competitions and won a couple of decent monetary prizes, though nothing as amazing as the painting seminar he won the year before. Though these prizes didn't get him to Italy this time, they continued to build his name and gain him recognition, which Justin decided would serve him well in his future artistic career.

Since his father still paid for room, board and living expenses per their agreement, Justin didn't need to have a job, but he continued to work at the diner on weekends and whatever money he earned waiting tables, from his art sales and competition prizes went directly into the bank towards his summer plans, which this time was a trip to Russia.

His friendship with Kirill Mironov didn't fade to nothing after he left Ibiza; in fact, it only grew. They kept in touch through email on a weekly basis and around the Christmas holidays he received an invitation from Kirill to visit him and his family in Moscow. Kirill said that he could stay for a couple of weeks or the whole summer, it was entirely up to him, though he hoped that Justin would choose the latter. Justin, thinking that it was an incredible opportunity, happily accepted and agreed to come for six weeks in July and August, since he planned to take a couple of classes during the short summer session in June and the first part of July.

His tourist visa secured, Justin went to Russia for six weeks in mid-July. He arrived in Moscow after a 17 hour flight, which included two stops, completely exhausted, but happy to see his his friend again. He was greeted at the airport by Rita and the entire Mironov family and was touched, if not a little bit surprised, to receive a warm hug from both of Kirill's parents who have never met him until that moment.

Kirill's mother as a teacher had the entire summer off and his father's month long vacation was planned for August. The fist two weeks, Kirill, Rita and Justin hung around Moscow, going to various tourist sites and spending hours in art museums. Justin's sketchpad and a new digital camera he splurged on before the trip were always on hand. Justin greatly enjoyed the Russian capital, especially the State Tretyakov Gallery that housed Russian art. Justin didn't know much of anything about the Russian artistic tradition and the wealth of information and the beauty of the art was overwhelming. He was equally impressed with the Moscow Museum of Modern Art and the Impressionist collection at the Pushkin State Museum. Justin greatly enjoyed the exhibits at the Kremlin Palace, the Armory and the Diamond Fund. The famous Red Square, St. Basil's Cathedral and the change of the guard at the Eternal Flame to the Unknown Soldier were as awe-inspiring as he thought they would be.

When Kirill took Justin shopping at the GUM department store, which more or less resembled an American mall, except it was over 100 years old and carried more luxury brands than all of Fifth Avenue in New York combined, Justin immediately thought of Brian. He remembered the Armani suit Brian wore the morning after their first time together, the clothes in his suite in London and a few off-hand comments about clothes and shopping Brian made in Ibiza, made Justin realize that Brian was quite the label queen, which he found nothing short of adorable. Walking around GUM, Justin couldn't resist taking a few photos of several high-end boutiques just for fun.

In the evenings Kirill, Rita and Justin went out with couple's numerous friends, many of whom spoke very decent English, which made things a lot easier for Justin. They went out clubbing several times, which was an experience Justin wouldn't soon forget, since he spent the entire time dancing to Russian club music with one female friend of Kirill's after another. Seeing his skills on the dance floor, the girls practically queued themselves to dance with him and wouldn't take no for an answer. At the end of each evening clubbing, Justin had to actually wring his shirt dry before getting into a taxi on the way home.

Because of what happened to Kirill's brother, neither he nor Justin felt comfortable advertising Justin's sexuality to anyone in Moscow. Kirill very skillfully told all his friends that Justin had a fiancee back home in order to stop any of his female friends having designs on Justin or on his body. When the girls all demanded to see photo evidence of that fiancee, Justin thanked his lucky stars he had a picture of Daphne with him. Everyone thought she was beautiful and all were suitably impressed that his “fiancee” was studying medicine, which was how he explained her absence on this trip to Russia. Justin hoped Daph wouldn't mind being used as his beard-in-absentia.

Of Brian, the two friends spoke only once. That conversation came on the heels of their mutual decision to keep Justin's sexual orientation in the closet while in Russia for safety. Justin told Kirill that he hasn't seen Brian after leaving his suite in Ibiza and that he truly believed that he would never see the brunet again, since they never exchanged telephone numbers or emails. Justin said that when he was in Pittsburgh over the winter break, he went to Liberty Avenue, hoping to see Brian there, but he didn't. He drove by his loft once, but seeing the windows of the top floor loft dark, concluded that Brian was out somewhere. Even though Brian didn't know Justin's home address, he knew which university Justin attended and could probably find out his school email address, if he wanted to. The fact that he hadn't was a pretty good indication that Brian had no intention of contacting him and that their encounters in both London and Ibiza were nothing but flukes. Kirill didn't believe any of it, stubbornly clinging to the idea that their chance meetings were fate. Justin eventually cut off the conversation and refused to speak of it or of Brian for the duration of the trip, though he thought of the brunet often and frequently wondered what Brian would think of all that he saw in Russia.

The fist two weeks in Moscow flew in a blink of an eye. Justin drew so much that he filled all six sketchbooks he brought with him from the States and had to buy more. Kirill took him to his favorite art store and Justin purchased more stuff than he actually needed because of how much cheaper the art supplies were there. Kirill, rather inspired by Justin's desire to commit to paper everything he saw around him, was sketching along with him, to his mother's utter delight. Kirill gratefully told Justin that he made him look at his native city with brand new eyes; made him notice things he never paid attention to before, be they beautiful, like art and architecture or ugly, like the abject poverty and homelessness of many of its citizens. Kirill said that Justin made him appreciate what he had, made him fall in love with his own city, yet open his eyes to its many problems and that he'll never see Moscow the same way again.

At the end of the second week of his stay in Russia, the Mironovs surprised him with a two week trip on the river cruise ship that made its way from Moscow to St. Petersburg along several Russian rivers, canals, tributaries and two majestic fresh water lakes. The trip normally catered to foreign tourists and most Russians couldn't afford the expensive journey. After looking online at the price of one reservation, Justin was horrified and tried to convince Kirill's parents to let him pay for at least a part of it, but they refused to take a penny. Kirill told Justin not to worry about it – his family had more money than they knew what to do with all due to his father being in the right place, at the right time and in front of the right opportunity about a decade ago. Having very fortunate connections with people in government due to his previous diplomatic service, his father was able to seize that opportunity and ended up being a part-owner of a small, newly privatized oil company that grew and expanded like gangbusters making Mr. Mironov very, very rich, very, very quickly; which is how they were able to own a huge four bedroom apartment in the center of Moscow, a large dacha (a summer house) on the lake outside the city, another apartment in the center of London and a villa on the beach in Ibiza. Kirill assured Justin that paying 15 thousand dollars for luxury accommodations for all of them, including his girlfriend Rita, for a river cruise to St. Petersburg was pretty much chump change and to think nothing of it. Justin calmed down somewhat after that, but vowed to somehow pay them back someday for their amazing generosity.

The two week cruise was yet another eye opening experience for Justin, filled with countless lessons in culture, history, religion and traditions of the Russian people. The cruise ship itinerary included stops in several ancient Russian towns along what was known as the Golden Ring – places of great importance in history and especially in the history of the Russian Orthodox Church. Justin, though he was brought up Presbyterian, wasn't very religious himself and often felt like this cruise was one great religious pilgrimage because of the number of churches, cathedrals, convents and monasteries they visited on every single stop of their journey. Until then, Justin had no idea how deeply intertwined religion was with Russian history, architecture and most of all, with its art.

Justin filled another half a dozen sketchbooks during the two week cruise, which he enjoyed tremendously. The family planned to spend a week it St. Petersburgh and then take the six hour train ride back to Moscow. Justin thought that if St. Petersburgh was anything at all like Moscow, he was bound to love it. What he discovered when they arrived there, simply blew him away. To Justin, every single cobblestone street, avenue, square and bridge in this former Russian capital had something of great interest and great beauty – a gorgeous palace, a beautiful church, a grand cathedral, a somber monument commemorating some historical event or person, a magnificent museum filled with world-class art. Justin could hardly contain himself and he sketched non-stop and almost feverishly trying to capture as much as he possibly could with pencil, charcoal and ink. In all honesty Justin told Kirill that as much as he loved Moscow and the towns he saw on the cruise, he would have gladly spend the entire six weeks in St. Petersburgh alone. Kirill laughed and said that maybe next time Justin came to visit, they would do exactly that.

When Justin, Rita and the Mironovs returned to Moscow, they decided to spend a week resting at their lake house after a fortnight of “strenuous” sightseeing on the cruise ship. Before they left for the country, Justin went to the art store and stocked up on a few more sketchbooks, as well as a canvas and paints. While the family were busy swimming, sun-bathing and generally having fun, Justin continued to sketch and began a canvas depicting of one of his favorite St. Petersburgh sites as a present to Kirill's parents. They loved the work and took it with them to Moscow, in order to hang it in the most prominent place in their living room.

At the end of his six week Russian adventure, Justin thought it was a trip of a life-time, very much on par with his backpacking trip through Europe a couple of years ago. He had an amazing time and, though he couldn't afford to give Kirill quite the same kind of experience - yet - he nevertheless invited his friend to visit him in the states anytime he wished. He promised Kirill “a good time on a student budget” and Kirill, happy to accept, said he'll make sure to visit as soon as he could.

~*~*~*~

Brian's life that fall was going great, if he didn't count the odd hallucination about a certain blond twink and a lackluster sex life. That is until he had made the stupid mistake of wading into the dirty waters of a political campaign. Gardner, who was at first a bit apprehensive about Brian running PR for the Stockwell mayoral campaign, soon bought into the financial bounty it could bring and promised Brian a hefty win bonus, plus a bonus for every client that a successful campaign would bring to VanGard. Brian, thinking that this kind of financial windfall would get him a step closer towards opening his own agency, used every skill in his professional arsenal to get Chief Stockwell to the top.

Unfortunately, the more he learned about the guy and the more he worked with him, the more he realized what a bigoted and hypocritical prick Jim Stockwell really was. While he could easily dismiss personality differences without a qualm for the sake of business, there was something about Jim Stockwell that bothered Brian on a deeper level. He did some stealthy research with the help of Mel, of all people, and to his horror found out about some corrupt practices it the police department, rumors of destroyed evidence and cover-ups of several murders of gay hustlers that worked Liberty Avenue. Until that point, none of the allegations had been mentioned in the media, but Brian was seriously concerned that if even one of them were to come to light, their firm would be in trouble by association. When he brought his concerns to Gardner, his boss dismissed it all as bullshit and essentially forced Brian to continue to work on the campaign. Brian refused, immediately resigned from VanGard and told Gardner to buy out his partnership. Then he put a file together detailing the allegations of corruption and cover-ups, and sent it anonymously to Stockwells opponent who went to town with the information. In November, Stockwell not only lost the election, but was also investigated and a month later indited.

By the time that happened, Brian has already started his own agency, Kinnetik, taking one of his VanGard clients with him. At first he worked out of his loft, but within a month two other VanGard clients defected to Kinnetik and with three clients, Brian desperately needed staff and an office. Hiring staff wasn't as big of a problem as finding the right office, since a few people he worked with at VanGard have expressed interest in working for Kinnetik. For two weeks they all worked from home and met at the loft for meetings, while Cynthia desperately searched for a suitable office location for all of them.

Brian was at a Starbucks buying a much needed latte a week before Christmas and barking at Cynthia over the phone.

“Cynthia, Eyeconix is on board...”

“Oh my God! That's the second client this week,” she screeched excitedly, interrupting him.

“Exactly, Cynthia! Kinnetik cannot afford to turn clients down, but now with five campaigns to run and five clients to please, I can't have staff working at home or out of my loft. I need a fucking office yesterday, Cynthia. The broker you've been working with is clearly a moron, since I STILL. HAVE. NO. OFFICE! Do your fucking job and find me a broker that is worth a damn, TODAY!”

Suddenly, he felt a tapping on his shoulder and annoyed turned around to see a petite, pretty woman in her mid-forties, with blue eyes and ash blond hair smiling up at him.

“Hold on, Cynthia. Yes?” He asked her curiously.

“I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing some of your conversation. I'm a realtor and I work with commercial properties, as well as residential. Let me give you my card, might save you some time. I promise you I am worth a damn,” she smiled at him and winked.

“Ah... thank you, Ms...”

“Taylor, Jennifer Taylor,” she shook his hand, her grip was surprisingly firm for such a small woman. “Here's my card. Give me a call, if you are interested in seeing some properties, Mr...”

“Kinney. Brian Kinney.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kinney. I'll let you get back to your phone call,” she smiled again and cut in front of him towards a barista that just became free to order herself a cup of coffee. For some reason, the woman's boldness appealed to Brian, so going on gut instinct alone he decided to give Ms. Jennifer Taylor a shot.

“Cynthia, forget the broker, I just found one,” he said and abruptly hung up.

Jennifer proved her worth as a broker quite brilliantly. After hanging up on Cynthia, Brian bought Jennifer her coffee and spent an hour talking about the kind of place he wanted for Kinnetik. He was impressed that she listened to him closely, took each of his ideas into account and found him the perfect place the very next day. The building that used to be the Liberty Baths was seized by the government for tax evasion and sold at auction to some idiot developer who regretted the purchase about five minutes later and put it back on the market again, where it's been languishing for the past four months. The place was close to the loft and dirt cheap, but it needed a hell of a lot of work. Jennifer Taylor further impressed Brian by hooking him up with an architect and a contractor, who remodeled the place quickly and at a good price. She also told him of an auction that liquidated bankrupt businesses, where he was able to find his favorite designer office furniture for his entire staff at a fraction of the retail price.

Six months later a fifth of VanGard client list migrated to Brian's firm and he had a staff of fifteen people, not counting himself, Ted and Cynthia who made up the core of Kinnetik. If becoming a Senior Partner in a good sized ad agency played havoc with Brian's social life, opening his own firm, rendered it virtually non-existent. He had no time at all for fucking around and if he went out with the boys to Babylon twice a month, he considered it a great accomplishment indeed.

His travel increased even more, for when clients couldn't come to his office, he trusted no one but himself, at least initially, to pitch new ideas or go over existing campaigns in their home offices.

_~*~*~*~_

A high end liquor producer out of France, that made fine cognac and other spirits, was interested in entering the American market. The owner of the well known French brand, at least well known within the European Union, was very good friends with the CEO of the British clothing line that increased their market share in the US by 15% after hiring Brian and, by extension VanGuard, a couple years ago to revamp their ad campaign. The clothier was among the first three firms that moved to Kinnetik within two months of its opening and the CEO highly recommended Brian's firm to anyone pursuing the American market. The owner of the centuries old liquor brand was one of the first brand new to Brian companies to approach Kinnetik. It wasn't an enormous account in terms of dollars, but Brian quickly recognized that it represented a niche market within the advertising field – small to mid-sized foreign companies that represented very high-end, exclusive products and just entering the US commercial space. Brian thought that if he introduced two or three more such companies successfully to the American consumer, it would make for a very solid foundation for Kinnetik's international division.

The owner invited Brian for a meeting at the company's headquarters in Paris, to tour their distilleries and to taste their products. Brian considered the week long meet and greet one long, drawn out opportunity to pitch, so he thoroughly researched the company, the owner and through various contacts obtained numerous copies of their European print and TV ads. He spent several days preparing a presentation and a kick-ass proposal for a possible campaign. He flew out to Paris on Saturday, August 16th and hoped the week would net him the second international client for Kinnetik.

A week later, on August 23rd, the traffic created by an accident on the motorway leading to the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport was bad enough to concern Brian that he would miss his flight, but he was lucky to get through check-in and security quickly enough to get him to the departures gate for his 3 pm flight to New York with 40 minutes to spare. Usually, he arrived at the airport early and spent the time waiting for his flight in a VIP lounge, but this time he decided to go straight to the gate since boarding would commence shortly. As soon as he got to the gate, he started scanning the over-crowded space for an empty chair and his gaze landed on a familiar, shaggy mop of blond hair.

 _It can't be,_  he thought.

He got closer and walked around so that he could see the person from the front, and yes, it was Justin – headphones in his ears, backpack at his feet and the ever present sketchbook and pencil in his hands. He walked up to him and nudged him with his knee, knowing that Justin wouldn't hear him otherwise. Justin quickly looked up, did a double-take and a myriad expressions flew across his face. He rapidly blinked as if not believing his eyes, then they widened in utter astonishment, then a huge, luminous smile appeared on his face as he stared up at Brian silently. Brian motioned for him to remove the headphones and when he did, the first words out of his mouth were,

“Unbe-fucking-leavable, Justin! There you are in the unlikeliest of places  _again_ , finding me like a homing pigeon.”

“Hello to you too, Brian. Actually, you are the one who keeps finding me, coming up to me and starting conversations, so if anyone's a homing pigeon it would be you, which would make me your home,” he flushed in embarrassment at those words.

Unperturbed, Brian asked, “Coming or going?”

“Going, heading home, in fact.”

“Pittsburgh?”

“Home, as in the US. I am actually going straight to New Hampshire after another layover in New York.”

“Another layover? Where are you coming from exactly?”

“Moscow. Went to visit Kirill and his family; been there six weeks. Now it's my turn to ask questions. You - what, where, how and why?”

“Hm, let's see. What – fancy new French client; where – home to Pittsburgh via New York; how – first class, all the way; why – to grow my business and conquer the world. How long was your layover here?”

“Six hours. I can't wait to get the hell out of here already!”

“You've been here for six hours? I wish I knew...”

“Why? So we'd be miserable in this over-crowded place together?”

“Sunshine, that's what VIP lounges are for – quiet, lots of space, free drinks at the bar. Or, if all else fails, there are hotels right by the airport.”

Justin laughed, “First, I can't afford VIP lounge access, even a day pass is beyond my means at the moment. Second, I don't think airport hotels rent by the hour, if you know what I mean.”

At that moment, the intercom squawked and an airline rep with a pleasant French accent said, “Ladies and gentlemen, flight number 1729 Paris Charles de Gaulle to New York will begin boarding procedures shortly. Before we begin, we have an announcement – the flight was overbooked in error and we are looking for two passengers to volunteer to give up their seats. We will rebook you on a comparable flight tomorrow afternoon, including all your connections to the final destination. To thank you for your cooperation you will be given hotel accommodation for the night and $1000 flight vouchers eligible on any American Airlines flight, including international destinations, and valid for a year from the date of issue. Again, we are looking for two passengers to volunteer to give up their seats.”

Justin and Brian looked at each other, then Brian asked, “Interested?”

“Fuck, yeah!”

They made their way to the boarding check-in counter and volunteered. They were given two rooms at the Hotel Intercontinental right by the airport and they didn't say a word to either the airline or the hotel staff, even though they knew that they would use only one. They rode the elevator silently, both thinking what to do next. Their rooms were on the same floor, though on opposite ends of a long hallway. When they got off the elevator Brian asked, “So, your room, mine or Paris?”

“What? You actually wouldn't mind going into the city?”

Brian frowned – with any other trick it would be the trick's hotel room, followed by Brian going to his room as soon as the deed was done. Going into the city from the airport hotel wouldn't even enter into the equation with any other person. Problem was that the only time Brian ever thought of Justin as “just a trick” was the first night he fucked him and he regretted thinking of him like that ever since he sent the kid away in tears and heartbreak. Normally, Brian Kinney didn't do apologies or regrets; but, as they say, there's always a first time for everything. Maybe going to Paris was his way of apologizing to Justin and dispensing with that one small regret. It seemed that every rule had an exception and Justin Taylor was his.

“Brian?” Justin asked again.

“No, I wouldn't mind,” Brian answered, coming out of his thoughts and back into the present. “I happen to like this city. Spending one more evening in Paris isn't exactly a hardship. So, you game?”

“Absolutely!” They dumped their bags in Brian's room and took a taxi to the center of town.

They made it into the city by 4 o'clock in the afternoon and began to walk along the Seine, admiring the view and talking. Brian asked Justin about his trip to Russia and Justin enthusiastically recounted his entire adventure, his eyes alight with happiness.

“I've never been interested in that country... until now,” Brian said in wonder. “And I thought I was a brilliant ad man, but you just completely sold me on a place I've never in my life wanted to go. Sounds like you had an amazing vacation, Justin.”

“It was pretty much 100% perfect!”

“The only way it would be 100% perfect, Sunshine, if there was a place to shop for things other than tourist tchotchkes and Soviet era memorabilia.”

At that comment Justin busted out laughing. “There is, you label queen!”

He continued snickering as he told Brian about the GUM department store and of the pictures he took of all the high-end boutiques like Armani, Gucci, Prada and Hugo Boss. “I'll show them to you on your computer, if you want. They are on a different memory card back at the hotel room.”

“You are not much for labels.” Brian observed Justin's usual attire of cargos and a tight t-shirt. “So, why did you take the pictures?”

“No idea. I thought of you in your Armani suit when I was walking around that place and just took a few snapshots of the boutiques. Maybe I thought I'd give them to you, if I ever saw you again.”

Brian didn't know why, but that pleased him enormously. “Thanks, Justin. I'd like to have them,” he said, then smirking asked. “So, how are the guys in Russia?”

“Completely hot and totally straight; well, at least those that I hung out with for half the summer.”

“There's no way there wasn't at least one queer guy there.”

“Oh, I'm sure there was, but deep, deep in the closet. So deep that my gaydar didn't even ping once,” Justin said sadly and then told Brian about what happened to Kirill's brother Alex.

“Shit, Justin, I hope you were being careful out there,” Brian said, suddenly and irrationally worried, even though Justin was walking beside him safe and sound.

“Kirill and I pretty much decided that it would be safer and easier for me to stay in the closet while there. Being out and proud in the US is one thing, but it's a whole different world over there. I didn't want to make trouble for Kirill or his family; for myself either.”

“Good,” Brian said, “God, that story was so fucking depressing, I need a drink. You?”

“Sounds good.”

They walked to a nearby restaurant bar and ordered a couple of drinks – Brian a snifter of cognac made by his new client and Justin a glass of Leffe Blonde. To change the subject towards something less gloomy, Justin asked Brian about his work and he, in turn, told him of the fiasco with Stockwell and of starting Kinnetik.

“You did it, Brian, congratulations!” Justin said in awe. “This is going to sound corny and it's totally not my place to say it, but I am so fucking proud of you!”

"Why?”

“Because you stuck to your principles, risked it all for what you believed it by leaving VanGard. And look at you now – you are so young and you already own your own ad agency. Last year in Ibiza you were talking of maybe doing that a few years down the line and just a year later you have a 'fancy new French client'!”

Brian considered himself to have a very healthy ego, though most people would say it was rather overdeveloped and that he was arrogant in the extreme. So, when no one besides Cynthia congratulated him on starting his own firm, he took it in stride and thought nothing of it, because his friends and family expected nothing less of him and none of them thought he needed praise. Up until this moment, he had convinced himself that he didn't need it either, but suddenly Justin's words were like a balm to the soul, they enveloped him with an invisible warm glow and made him so happy he wanted to cry. Brian hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of another person, so he hid his feelings, gave Justin a small smile and simply said, “Thanks, Justin. I mean that.”

“You are welcome.”

“You want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.” They walked out of the restaurant and made their way back towards the Seine embankment. They walked for a few minutes, Brian answering Justin's questions about a few of his clients and the ad campaigns his company was working on, when suddenly Justin stopped.

“There it is!” he exclaimed, pointing towards  _Shakespeare and Company_ bookstore, then he grabbed Brian by the hand and dragged him across the street and inside. They browsed the shelves and stacks of books for about twenty minutes when Brian realized that Justin was looking for something specific.

“Why are we here again?” he asked.

“That summer when Daph and I were here, I saw a first edition copy of  _Jane Eyre_. It was entirely beyond my means to buy...”

“ _Jane Eyre_?” Brian asked completely perplexed, which made Justin laugh.

“Don't look at me like that, Brian. It's my mother's favorite book. She's read it hundreds of times, to the point that her paperback copy simply fell apart. I got her an illustrated, leather bound hardback copy for Christmas that year. When I saw the first edition, I should have at least taken a picture of it to show her, but I didn't and I've always regretted it. I promised myself to take a snapshot if I ever see it again. I wonder if it's still here. Give me a couple of more minutes to look, OK? Then we'll go.”

Brian agreed and started looking for it together with Justin. A couple of minutes later he saw it in a bookcase, locked behind glass, near the register.

“Justin, I found it. There it is!” Justin's four years of high-school French came in handy when he politely apologized for his poor French and asked the man behind the counter if he could take a picture of the edition for his mother. The man, charmed, unlocked the rare book and allowed Justin to photograph it. If Brian wasn't impressed with Justin before then, this certainly would've clinched it – Brian had a thing for foreign languages and it sounded like Justin spoke it very well indeed, his dick certainly approved of the sound. The fact that Justin was getting the picture for his mother surprisingly didn't turn Brian off. Normally that kind of gesture would have been a huge turn off; Brian didn't tolerate mama's boys, except for Michael, who admittedly was a special case. On Justin, though, this concern for his mother's happiness looked sweet, without being annoying. It didn't scream “I have mommy issues” and didn't come from a place of desperation, but of love, pure and simple. Brian suddenly had an urge to do something nice, a feeling that came over him very rarely.

“Justin, this isn't all that expensive. Why don't I get it for you, then you can give your mother the real thing, instead of just a picture.”

“300 euros is not that much? Are you insane?”

“Justin, I pay more for a pair of shoes.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“How much do you think a pair of Gucci loafers cost?”

“Oh my God, you  _are_  a label queen!” Justin laughed. “Brian, thank you for offering, really, but no. If I get this for my mother, I'd want to buy it for her myself.”

When Brian tried to protest, Justin staunchly refused, though he gave him a thorough thank you kiss in the middle of the bridge that led their way towards Notre Dame de Paris. Brian thought that the only way to describe that kiss – their first since Ibiza - was as ridiculously romantic.

Brian and Justin explored interior of the famous Cathedral and Justin, lamenting the fact that for once he didn't bring his sketchbook with him, took about a hundred pictures. Brian was walking around the Cathedral, thinking about his mother, of all people.

 _See, mother, I walked into one of the most famous Catholic churches in the world, second to St. Peter's Basilica itself, with my young male lover in tow and, guess what, you frigid bitch, I didn't burst into flames and God didn't strike me down dead, even though I am a heathen fag! And, oh my God, mother, I just uttered a curse word in this holy place and, yet, I am still alive!_ he thought viciously.

Justin was suddenly at his side. “Brian, are you OK?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You look upset, angry even.”

“Just thinking about my mother. It's ironic, I normally despise people who have 'mommy' or 'daddy' issues, but it seems I am a poster child for them.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Are you ready to go? I think I've had just about enough of this place.”

“Sure.”

They made their way out of the Gothic Cathedral, Justin took a few pictures of the facade and they made their way out of the Ile de la Cite. They took the metro to Montmartre and walked up the hill along winding cobblestone streets, lined with dozens of souvenir shops, sex shops, clothing vendors and artists trying to con unsuspecting tourists into sitting for overpriced portraits. They stopped in a couple of little art galleries, neither of which impressed them much. Justin's stomach loudly rumbled right in front of a little restaurant called  _Au Virage Lepic_  and Brian, laughing, ushered Justin inside. They were lucky to find an empty table in the tiny place and had a nice dinner, while Justin told Brian the history of the street where the restaurant was situated, of its importance in the world of art history and of visiting the art studio where Picasso and other artists painted when he was here with Daphne. When they finished eating, Brian refused to let Justin pay for his meal and took care of the check himself.

Then they walked up to the Basilica Sacre-Coeur on top of the hill. Before they could climb the stairs they saw an elderly man climbing the stairs on his knees along a specially designated path for hard core pilgrims. Justin took a couple of discrete photos and they climbed to the top, though on their feet, in silence. They walked into the massive church and marveled at the beauty of the interior. They were able to go up and walk around the base of the dome and took a 360 degree view of Paris. As beautiful as Brian found the Basilica on an esthetic level, being there for longer than half an hour made him uncomfortable, so they left. They noticed the same elderly man still climbing the stairs on his knees as they descended.

“I don't understand that kind of faith,” Brian said quietly. “Actually, I don't understand faith at all. To me it's all bullshit.”

Justin wasn't at all surprised by that revelation, but he was nothing short of astonished that Brian volunteered something like that at all. They left Montmartre talking about religion and faith. Although their viewpoints differed – Brian being a staunch atheist and Justin a believer in a loving God – they managed to have a lively and a surprisingly rational discussion, which they concluded by agreeing to disagree.

“This is the fist time in my life I've had a debate about religion without it devolving into a screaming fight, tears or being condemned to an eternal flame of damnation,” Brian said.

“That's probably because I don't really believe in organized religion. I more or less have faith in something larger than myself, than this earth, than all of us; something that connects us all together, a loving force, if you will, that doesn't condemn or judge, but that does bring some sort of justice in the end. I call it God. Some people call it karma.” Justin shrugged.

“Huh, I have a friend who'll like your train of thought. Zen Ben is a Buddhist,” Brian said smiling, thinking of Michael's partner. “I do know one thing, though, my mother would love to climb those stairs on her knees and not because of a genuine calling to do so, but because it'll make her look more pious to other people. I detest that kind of hypocrisy even more than blind faith or blind hate.”

That brought the subject of parents around once more and Justin was surprised, yet again, when Brian actually talked about his parents. Brian briefly explained that he has never had much of a relationship with either parent; that his father, who was an abusive drunk, was now dead and his mother was a holier-than-thou religious fanatic who condemned him for being gay. Justin told Brian about his deteriorating relationship with his father and a surprisingly strong one with his mother and sister, Molly. Justin asked Brian about Gus and he told told Justin that he never meant to be a part of the kids' life, but found himself involved with his son as much as his schedule allowed, despite his insecurities as a father. Justin reassured Brian that as long as he loved his kid no matter what and let him know it, Gus would be the luckiest boy in the world.

They took the metro back to the center of Paris, making their way to the Eiffel Tower. They took the stairs to the observation deck instead of the elevator because Brian wanted more exercise. When Justin protested, Brian said, “Hey, it's after seven and knowing you, you might get hungry again later.”

They took in the evening view of Paris and once they descended, by elevator this time, they walked towards Le Champs Elysee and walked along the famous avenue. They continued talking, this time about their friends and Brian told him about Ted's foray into porn website ownership, subsequent arrest, drug use, rehab and current stint as his accountant at Kinnetik. He told Justin of Emmett's party planning business and a brief, tumultuous affair with a football star; of Michael's comic book store and his fostering a teenage ex-hustler named Hunter together with his partner, Ben. Justin told him of his missing Daphne. They regularly kept in touch through email and phone calls, but they only saw each other over Christmas and a bit in the summer because neither could afford to go home for Thanksgiving and both worked during spring break. Justin told Brian of a few casual friends in college, but admitted that other than Daphne and Kirill he didn't have very close friends – he was just too busy to hang out with the partying college crowd.

A little while later, both slightly hungry again, they stopped at a cafe and ordered a couple of small, appetizer-sized dishes and a bottle of Bordeaux. They enjoyed the light fare, sitting at an outdoor table, drinking excellent wine and quietly watching the crowds. Justin could barely believe the day he has had, it went from a super early flight out of Moscow, to an interminable six hours at the airport in Paris, waiting for his connection to New York, to spending an absolutely incredible afternoon and evening in Paris with Brian. He couldn't let that go unacknowledged.

“This has been one incredible day, Brian. Actually, don't be upset, but this feels kind of like a date – the nicest one I've ever been on,” Justin said with his signature sunshine smile.

Brian winced, then said with a smirk, “Yeah, I was desperately trying not to think that, but you are right. I mean, we strolled along the river, went antiquing, kissed on a bridge, looked at art, checked out a couple of churches, went sightseeing. We had a drink, then dinner, now we are having wine and conversation under twinkling lights...well, they might as well be twinkling. What else? Oh, yeah, we talked about our lives, our parents and religion. By hetero standards we're this close to being engaged.” He put his thumb and index finger about a millimeter away from each other. Justin laughed.

“Yeah, you are probably right. In any case, this non-date is way better than any actual date I've ever been on. You?”

“I've only been on a 'real' date once. I ended up fucking the waiter. Enough said.”

“Wow! Must have been a bad one.”

“You have no idea. Put me off dating for life.”

“Oh, right...What was it you told me? 'I don't believe in love, I believe in fucking. I get the maximum of pleasure, with the minimum of bullshit'...etc, etc. Right?”

“You remember that?” Brian winced again.

“Of course! Believe me, it made an impression,” Justin said with a smile, without a hint of anger or sarcasm.

“I take it you still don't agree with my philosophy?” 

“It's not that I don't agree. It's as valid a philosophy to live by as any other, I guess, and if it works for you, great! Who am I to judge? It's just that I DO believe in love, still. I want to experience all the highs and all the lows of a relationship, of love. I want the emotions, the mess, even some of the bullshit. It may be stupid, but it's worth it to hear someone say 'I love you, you mean the world to me' at least once, even if it all falls apart in the end. At least I could say that I tried, did my best, had the experience. I mean, all these emotions – the good, the bad and the ugly – are what makes us human. Without love, we are just so much meat.”

“Thanks, Justin. Lovely image there,” Brian said sarcastically, as Justin laughed once again. “So, how it is going then, in the relationship, in the love department?” He asked curiously.

“Truthfully, Brian, I am way to busy to really date. I've been on a couple of dates, but they went nowhere. I didn't even want to fuck them afterward. I've had a few one night stands and them I didn't want to date at all. Bottom line, I'm in a holding pattern at the moment, I'm really too busy with school, painting and work to make the extra effort.”

They finished drinking the wine in silence, thinking about each others comments, then they got up and started walking along the avenue once more. A couple of minutes later Brian said, smiling mischievously, “So, if this was a real date, would you put out?”

“And then some!” Justin laughed. “I'd rock your world and give you a night you would never forget!”

“Oh, really? Dare to put that to the test?”

“I thought this wasn't a date?”

“Well, I did buy you dinner...twice.”

“Well, in that case...your room or mine?”

They hailed a cab and went back to the airport hotel.

~*~*~*~

The next morning Brian was the first one to wake up for a change. He looked at the blond sleeping next to him and waves of memories of a feverish night assaulted his mind. He suddenly realized that Justin did rock his world, as corny as that sounded, as he was unlikely to forget this night any time soon, even without any kind of “triggering” music since there was none when got into the room.

He looked at the clock and noted that they had at least three hours before they had to check out and get to the airport.

 _This time I'm going to get my fucking good-bye kiss and a hell of a lot more!_ Brian thought and gently woke Justin by nuzzling his neck, then kissing him on the lips and slowly moving down the boy's body. What followed was a first in Brian's experience – languid movements, slow caresses, deep kisses, gentle licks, playful nips, drawn-out sighs and nothing but pure pleasure, and joy in every single touch. He worshiped every inch of Justin's body with his hands, his lips, his tongue, even his lashes when they accidentally brushed the tip of his nose and elicited the most delicious groan out of his blond's throat. A mutual orgasm later, Brian gently pulled out, discarded the condom and cleaned the cum off of Justin's stomach with a warm washcloth. A couple of minutes later Justin returned the favor and began to worship every inch of Brian's skin in that same unhurried, luxuriant manner, igniting his every cell to the point of madness and making him want things he very rarely wanted.

“God, I want you.” Brian groaned.

“You have me, Brian. Take me.”

“No, take me,” Brian said in barely a whisper.

“What?” Justin completely stilled, looking straight into hazel eyes hooded with passion.

“I want you inside me...”

Brian couldn't believe he was saying this. He bottomed maybe once every three years or so, if that, and it was usually a feeling akin to an inch needing scratched. Someone would scratch it, it would be over in less than half an hour and he wouldn't have the same itch again for a few years. But this...this was different – not an irritating itch, not a need that every queer had once in a while, not even a want. It was somehow deeper than that. It was an incredible desire, a primal craving for a connection that he has never had with anyone else. If he didn't get to know his tricks, he at least remembered their faces and occasionally saw them around Liberty Avenue. When that particular itch made itself known, he was usually and very conveniently out of town and he made it a point not to remember anything at all about the lucky bastards who had the rare privilege of topping him once every few years.

Brian realized that it has been close to five years since he has had the itch, he just happened to be out of town and Justin and he would definitely be going their separate ways. But this wasn't the reason he said it, he admitted to himself. Here, with Justin, just like in London and in Ibiza, he felt different and for a couple of days (or in this case a few hours) he lived a different life where he talked freely and was unfettered by the expectations of everyone who knew him back home. Here, with Justin, he allowed himself to make love to someone for the first time and acknowledged that love existed at least in the physical sense, though that feeling was fleeting, because he truly loved every tiny millimeter of Justin's body. This was Paris, he was with Justin and at this moment anything was possible.  _“So, why not? Why not indulge?”_  he thought, while looking into those unfathomable eyes that were as deep as the ocean this time, instead of being as light as the sky, moved by some unrecognizable emotion. Brian sighed, gave in to that foreign craving for a true connection with someone important and let himself be loved.

~*~*~*~

Afterward, they called room service and had breakfast. They took a leisurely shower in the fragrant steam and midway through it both realized that their unexpected Parisian rendezvous was almost at an end. Suddenly, the delicious languor of the morning disappeared and they desperately came together again, Brian claiming Justin once again.

They checked out of the hotel, got a cab and rode to the airport in awkward silence. Eventually they realized that they still had a 9 hour flight to New York together, they relaxed and started talking again. Upon boarding, Justin was astonished to find out that Brian upgraded his ticket to first class.

Brian smirked and said jokingly, “Well, this is a full service date, you know...”

They spent most of the time talking on the plane about everything and nothing. They tried watching the in-flight movie, but it sucked. Brian remembered that he didn't have a chance to look at Justin's photos and sketches of Russia and they spent a couple of hours looking at and talking about Justin's work.

When they got to New York, Justin had only 45 minutes before his flight to New Hampshire, while Brian had an hour and a half before his flight to Pittsburgh. Thankfully, they were assisted through customs and security due to the time constraints and all too soon Justin had to rush to his gate in order to make his flight. Justin was about to leave, but then, he impulsively took two steps forward, stood up on his toes and kisses Brian full on the mouth, hard and fast. Then, in a blink of an eye, he turned around and started walking quickly away.

Brian tried his best to be stoic, to let go, not to say something totally idiotic, but in the end he lost the battle. It took him two minutes to catch up with Justin.

“Hey, Sunshine!”

Justin turns around in surprise, “Brian!”

“So...” Brian hesitated for a second or two, then continued, “same time, next year?”

“How? Where?”

“We have flight vouchers worth a grand that expire on August 24th of next year, remember? We can meet anywhere...well, anywhere American flies, that is. We can meet the day before, on the 23rd, and stay for a couple of weeks.”

“Can't do two weeks, school.”

“One then.”

“Oh, fuck it, I can miss the first week of school – nothing much happens then anyway. Two weeks it is.”

“Great. Where?”

“Have you ever been to Sydney, Brian?”

“Yes. It's home to the gay Mardi Gras, the gayest place on earth, other than Disney World, of course.”

“Damn, I want to go somewhere new, where neither one of us has ever been before. New Zealand?”

“No, I've never been there. Sounds...”

“Wait, the voucher probably won't cover the cost of the ticket.”

“Justin, I can cover it.”

“No, Brian. No, I won't use you. Costa Rica?”

“Perfect!”

“August 23rd, 2004. San Jose. Two weeks.”

Brian smiled, nodded and sealed their deal with a quick, hard kiss of his own. After they broke apart, Justin backed away a couple of steps, sent Brian one of his brilliant, sunshine smiles, then turned around and ran to catch his connection. Just before turning a corner, he turned around once more and shouted from across a crowded terminal.

“Same time, next year?”

“Same time, next year!” Brian shouted back.

A second later, Justin was gone. Brian finally turned around and walked towards his gate in the opposite direction, smiling the whole way.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who said "Paris is always a good idea"? I can't remember, but I believe that it is 100% true.


	6. Monday, August 23rd, 2004

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of warnings: 
> 
> WARNING - violence that some might find triggering.
> 
> WARNING - Soap opera medicine ahead! Please forgive my very minimal research into any and all things medical. OK, you've been warned. *whispers* Soap opera medicine ahead...

Justin's third year at school was one of the best, because most of his business coursework was done. He only took two business courses that were required for his degree in the fall semester and in spring all that was left was the final capstone course. The rest of the year was dedicated to art courses.

One of his paintings displayed at the student art show at the end of the first semester, was chosen by the school to be entered in a regional art competition, which Justin won to his surprise. That achievement got him noticed by a couple of local art galleries who expressed interest in displaying a couple of his pieces. He happily agreed, but he still continued to sell his drawings and paintings in local businesses that have been supporting him since the beginning. Every penny he made, Justin banked in order to save as much as he could for the upcoming trip to Costa Rica. Besides his art, seeing Brian again in Costa Rica for two full weeks was foremost in his mind the entire year.

Besides winning the art competition, the highlight of Justin's school year was a visit from Kirill Mironov, who came for the Christmas holidays. He stayed for three weeks, thoroughly charming everyone who came in contact with him, from Justin's mother Jennifer, his sister Molly, Daphne, who was in Pittsburgh for Christmas, to his college friends in New Hampshire.

In the early hours of the New Years Day, after a wild party Kirill and Justin attended with Daphne, the three were lying on the floor of Daphne's room in her parents house, recuperating from the revelry, when Kirill suddenly asked, “So, have you seen him again?”

“Who?”

“Your Brian, the one you see every year in August.”

“Yeah, we saw each other at the airport in Paris, the day I flew out of Moscow.”

“August 23rd - told you it was fate. I can't believe you didn't tell me!”

“He didn't even tell  _me_  and I've got prior ownership of his friendship,” Daphne said jokingly.

“That's OK, I forgive you this time,” Kirill said “So, what happened? Tell me!”

Justin told Kirill and an eager Daphne a few highlights of his amazing “date” with Brian in Paris, keeping the most intimate details of their night to himself.

“What happens next August?” Kirill and Daphne asked in unison and laughed drunkenly.

“We are meeting in Costa Rica for two weeks,” Justin answered dreamily.

“You are meeting _there_? Why not just meet in Pittsburgh and fly out together?” Daphne said in confusion.

“Huh! We didn't think about it, I guess. We literally had minutes, if not seconds, to decide and come up with a plan.” Justin explained about the extremely short layover in New York City.

“What about in the meantime?” Kirill asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You don't see him? Don't talk to him? You are really waiting a year to see him again?” Daphne piped in.

“I don't know, Justin. I couldn't bear not seeing or talking to Rita at all for a year.”

“Kirill, he's not my boyfriend. I told you, he doesn't believe in relationships, or love, or commitment. He believes in fucking. We happen to be really good at that together, so if we are anything at all, we are friends with benefits, to use the overused cliché. So, nothing's changed. He does whomever, whenever and wherever he wants during the year; I know that he does and I don't care, because I do the same, though not quite the same way. I at least go out on actual dates when I have time and make attempts at actual relationships.”

“You see other people and you sleep with them?” Kirill asked in surprise.

“If I like them, yes, to both questions. Unfortunately, nothing's ever turned very serious just yet though. I haven't really had time to date much.”

“Do you love him?” Kirill asked.

“I really shouldn't. We've spent so little actual time together, I shouldn't know him at all, but I feel like I do. Rationally, I shouldn't be in love with him, but I am and every time I see him I fall for him deeper. A smart person would forget him, wouldn't make crazy plans a year in advance to fly to fucking Costa Rica in order to see him again... But you know what? I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'll keep doing it year after year, meeting him on August 23rd for the next twenty years, if he wanted me to.”

“Don't you want to meet someone that will love you back? Don't you want to grow old with someone, have a family?” Daphne asked quietly.

“Yes, I do. I hope that someday I'll meet this person. The insane thing is that I hope that this person will give me that one night to do with as I please, because for as long as Brian Kinney wants me, every August 23rd I'll be his.”

Over the next couple of days Kirill and Daphne did their best to convince Justin to contact Brian while he was in Pittsburgh for the holidays. Daphne went as far as getting the address and phone number for Kinnetik, then called the place pretending to be a secretary for a client who needed to verify Mr. Kinney's email address. She was lucky to have spoken to someone other than Cynthia, who was at lunch at the time and who would have seen the pathetic ruse for what it was in about a second. Kirill, who was in on the whole thing, told Daphne to keep studying medicine because acting was definitely not her forte. Daphne told Kirill to “stuff it” because she got the email address in the end anyway. All that effort was unfortunately wasted, because Justin absolutely refused to contact Brian for fear of being seen as some sort of teen stalker. All their protests fell on deaf ears because the bottom line was that Justin was afraid that if he contacted Brian too soon, Brian would get spooked, change his mind and cancel their vacation plans.

“Shouldn't you give him at least your email address or phone number in case of emergency, or something?” Daphne said.

“For the last fucking time, if Brian wanted to contact me he would have asked for my number or email. He didn't and I am not going to force that info on him, OK? Besides, if he needs to contact me for whatever reason, he knows how – through the university. If for some reason he can't do that, there's always my father. I told him about Craig's precious electronics chain. If push comes to shove and Brian really needs to get a hold of me, he'll find a way.”

After that Justin closed the discussion and refused to go back to the subject again.

~*~*~*~

Spring heralded a new dawn in Justin's life – he was one course away from completing his business degree requirements and therefore was able to concentrate more on his art; he took less courses that semester and suddenly had time for a social life; and finally, sick of dorm life, he rented a studio apartment of his very own within a few minutes walking distance from campus.

Having time for a social life came in to play in the middle of the spring semester when Justin went to a student violin recital at the urging of a few friends where he met Ethan Gold. Ethan, to Justin's utter surprise, hailed from Pittsburgh. In fact, he got his undergraduate degree in violin at PIFA, where Justin so wanted to study art. The previous year, Ethan came in second at the Heifetz violin competition, which didn't get him a recording contract, but did get him scholarship money to continue his studies. So, here he was at Dartmouth College of Music, getting a masters degree in violin on full scholarship.

Ethan had seen Justin around campus before, but Justin, who was constantly busy never paid attention until that moment. They instantly liked each other and began dating within a couple of weeks. At first, things were pretty casual between them, but by June, things turned more serious. Ethan wanted to become exclusive and proposed that they move in together once Justin's lease on the studio was up. Justin previously mentioned to his boyfriend his planned August trip to Costa Rica, but he never told him about Brian or the main reason for the trip. As soon as monogamy was mentioned, Justin felt that he had no choice and told Ethan about Brian and that he had no intention of canceling his plans. He told Ethan that he was prepared to give up everyone else for him, except for Brian. He left the choice up to Ethan and told him, if he had a problem with any of it and wanted to break up, there would be no hard feeling. Ethan was initially upset, took a couple of days to think things over, but then he somewhat surprised Justin by agreeing to the arrangement. They decided to take exclusivity off the table until Justin came back from his trip and then to revisit the discussion again later.

Justin was happy about this new development in his life – he liked Ethan and they got along great together. The idea of living with him intrigued him, but he didn't feel quite ready to take that step with him yet. He did know that as much as he liked Ethan and as possible a real future was with the musician, he didn't love him enough to give up Brian Kinney. He hoped that with time his feeling for Ethan would grow and that he finally found someone worth making the extra effort in the relationship department.

Justin was enjoying his summer very much. He looked forward to his Costa Rican adventure, he took a couple of art classes during the summer session, he continued to work and to paint and he saw Ethan Gold almost every day. Their relationship was going well until about the middle of summer when things started to change. The closer the trip came, the moodier and more irritable Ethan became. A week before Justin was to leave for Costa Rica, Ethan got drunk and demanded that Justin cancel the trip. When Justin refused, Ethan suddenly hit him. Justin was so stunned that he was frozen on the spot. It wasn't a very good punch, it barely hurt and made no mark on Justin's jaw, where it landed. What stunned him was the insult of it and the complete transformation in Ethan from a calm, sweet, romantic and rational individual into a monster, who suddenly directed his attack from Justin onto Justin's things.

Justin wasn't a materialistic person, he didn't care about his stuff, especially since most of it came from a thrift store. So when Ethan smashed his chair against the wall, overturned his table and broke several of his dishes, Justin was still so stunned by the initial attack, that he didn't really react; it was as if he was watching a movie, or an episode of someone else's life. However, when Ethan picked up his just completed canvas and slammed his knee through it's center, completely destroying the work, that's when Justin finally reacted. Justin, who was not very tall in stature, still gave off the appearance of a waif barely out of his teens. However, the reality was much further from the truth – he was a lot stronger than he appeared and could take care of himself, courtesy of wrestling lessons his father gave him from the time he was about eight until the age of 17, when his father finally discovered his sexual orientation. Justin ran towards Ethan, tackled him to the ground and quickly subdued him by twisting his arms, holding them with one hand, pinning his legs with his body and cutting off enough air supply with his free arm to scare the daylights out of his soon to be ex-boyfriend.

“I am going to forget that you hit me and that you smashed my shit to smithereens,” Justin said with a deadly calm in his voice. “I will not forget, however, you destroying my work, you fucking bastard! I will take pictures of this and I will make a formal complaint at the police station, so that they'll have it on file. Don't worry, I won't press charges. This time. But I will happily do so, if you ever touch me or my shit again. Oh, by the way, if I ever see your face again anywhere near me or my apartment, I will get a copy of that police complaint and take it straight to the dean of the music school, understand? You'll be lucky if the only thing you lose is your scholarship. I wouldn't ever try to destroy my work again, if I were you, because if you do, I. WILL. BREAK. YOUR. FACE.”

He let a wheezing Ethan go, hauled him upright and threw him out the door. 

"Oh, and one more thing, we are over! Get the fuck out of here.”

Justin slammed the door and did exactly as he promised – he took multiple pictures, got them developed and filed a complaint at the local precinct. Though he occasionally saw Ethan Gold on campus since then, he never talked to him again.

 _Well, I fucking wanted to experience a relationship – all the highs and all the lows!_  Justin thought ruefully,  _I sure as hell experienced it all, didn't I? The fucking bastard tells me he loves me, then goes completely psycho and destroys my work. As they say, be careful what you fucking wish for! Maybe Brian's right – this shit ain't worth it._

It took Justin a couple of days to calm down and put things in perspective. He decided that as bad as his first relationship ended, it could always be worse – as pissed as he was about his canvas being destroyed, he himself wasn't hurt and he ended things quickly, while there were far too many people living for years in abusive relationships. Justin decided to chalk up the months he spent with Ethan Gold as valuable learning experience. In the future, he decided to stick to an altered version of Brian's modus operandi – instead of adopting the “one fuck per customer” and no boyfriends rule, he decided on having lots of boyfriends instead. He decided to date one person very, very casually and move on to the next person as soon as things start to get serious in any way.

He decided that during the month of August, he won't date anyone at all.

~*~*~*~

Brian's year was equally as eventful. Kinnetik was doing exceptionally well, well enough for Brian to hire more staff and to renovate the second floor of the building which sat unused up until that point. Kinnetik won a Cleo award for a national ad campaign they did for Children's Medical Centers of America and Brian was nominated as Ad Man of the Year again, but this time the award went to someone else. Brian wasn't upset about not winning the award again in the slightest – both the Cleo and his nomination put Kinnetik on the map of the advertising world and, suddenly, his firm was no longer viewed as “the little boutique ad agency,” but as a major player in the industry.

His chosen family was doing well also. Ted was thriving as the CFO of Kinnetik, finally finding some sort of peace with himself and with his self-confidence at an all time high his love life was actually better than Brian's. Emmett's party planning and catering business with Vic was doing surprisingly well and was beginning to make a name for itself in Pittsburgh. Emmett himself was finally in a relationship with a guy named Calvin, who hailed from his home town of Hazelhurst, Mississippi, and who recently moved to Pittsburgh for a teaching job in the history department at Carnegie Mellon.

There were two big things that rocked Brian's chosen family that year. First, Michael and Bed tied the knot rather impulsively while on vacation in Vermont, which astonished all of their friends and outraged Debbie, who lamented the fact that she didn't give Michael away at the wedding and didn't get to celebrate it in any way at all. She bitched and moaned about it so much and so loudly that Brian finally snapped one night at a family dinner and said that he'll gladly pay for a wedding reception that everyone can attend, if it would permanently shut her up on the subject. After a few minutes of total silence, Emmett let out an almighty squeal and volunteered his party planning services. Before pandemonium could break out, Brian said that he didn't want to hear another word about it from anyone, he just wanted to quietly sign the checks. He ordered Emmett to find a venue and coordinate the event; told Vic to do the food; directed the munchers to organize flowers, linens and china; gave Hunter free reign with the music, as long as the DJ  _didn't_  play trip hop. He told the grooms to be properly attired in formal wear from his favorite designer clothing store, at his expense. Debbie's assignment was to shut the fuck up and possibly, if she could handle that kind of pressure, to find a dress that wouldn't clash with her ever-present red wig. He gave everyone only a week to pull it all together, because three weekends in a row after that he would be out of town on business.

His family pulled it off without a hitch; all except for Hunter who misunderstood and thought that Brian wanted a DJ who WOULD play trip hop and actually found one that incorporated  _Portishead_ ,  _Massive Attack_  and  _Tricky_  heavily into his rotation. Everyone thought the music was a little too experimental for their taste, but it was still danceable enough and the whole wedding party, which ballooned to 75 guests, danced for hours without much complaint. Brian, however, wanted to wring Hunter's neck, because for most of the reception Brian couldn't get Justin out of his mind and along with memories of their nights together, he imagined dancing with a tuxedo-ed Justin in front of his family and friends. The vision of draping a white silk scarf from his shoulders onto Justins, then using it as a prop of sorts in a complicated dance, that included twirls, dips and a soulful kiss, disturbed Brian so much that he broke out in a cold sweat and had to get outside for a calming smoke.

 _I can't go to fucking Costa Rica!_ He thought, desperately.  _After Paris - oh, fuck, let's call a spade, a spade, shall we? - after that_ date _in Paris and after what happened the next morning, God knows what he's been thinking. Going on fucking vacation together to Costa fucking Rica, for two fucking weeks will give him all sorts impossible relationship ideas. Jesus, what a mess!_

Brian decided to cancel his plans and that's exactly what he would have done had a second event to impact his family not happened. Brian had to go to California on business the very next day after Michael and Ben's wedding reception and he was so busy that he had no time to think of anything or anyone else other than the client and the campaign that was having major problems. He came back to Pittsburgh late on Sunday afternoon a week later only to find out that Vic was found dead on the living room couch a couple of hours before. Apparently he died peacefully in his sleep; his heart simply gave out due to HIV complications. A few days later, Brian paid for and attended Vic's funeral.

 _What a fucked up life – a wedding and a funeral in less than two weeks!_ He thought, while a priest was delivering the eulogy. He looked at his chosen family and was suddenly surprised to find them all in pairs. Debbie was leaning on Carl Horvath, a police detective she has been dating for about six months. Emmett was being supported by Calvin. Ted was holding hands with Peter, an opera buff he's been seeing for less then a month. Brian thought that the relationship must be actually heading somewhere for Peter to have come to a stranger's funeral just to support Ted. Mel and Lindsey were, of course, together; as were Michael and Ben, with a very subdued Hunter in tow. They all had someone to lean on in their grief, while he stood alone, thinking about Vic – a man who loved life, love, laughter, happiness and who found pleasure everywhere he could. Brian was convinced that if Vic was in his shoes, he wouldn't even hesitate, he'd go to Costa Rica and he would wring as much joy out of those two weeks as it was humanly possible and consider himself lucky.

Brian decided to do the same.

~*~*~*~

A week before he was to leave for Costa Rica Brian went to the doctor for his yearly physical that he's been rescheduling again and again for a couple of months due to his busy schedule. When the doctor discovered a testicular lump, Brian felt like his whole world tilted on its axis. His doctor urged him not to waste any time, to get surgery right away and if diagnosed with testicular cancer, he advised him to start radiation and/or chemo therapy immediately after recovering from surgery.

Though he could have found a way to reach Justin and tell him of his circumstances and changes to their plan, he decided that it would be better to let Justin go, for his own good. He realized that it might be cruel to let Justin go to Costa Rica by himself and just not show up without a word, but he thought that would be the surest way to get his point across – that he didn't want him. The problem was that Brian did want Justin, more than he should; what he didn't want was for Justin to look at him with pity and, God forbid, want to help a cancer-ridden, one-ball-wonder. Thus, he didn't contact Justin and instead of going to Costa Rica, he flew to Baltimore on Sunday, August 22nd. The very next morning on Monday, August 23rd, at Johns Hopkins Medical Center Brian had surgery to remove the tumor along with his ball, which was replaced with a plastic one. After the biopsy was done, it was confirmed that Brian had testicular cancer.

When the doctor was giving Brian the news he was actually smiling, which made Brian want to punch him, except he was still recovering from surgery and was rather weak.

“What the fuck are you smiling about, doc? I have one ball left because I have fucking cancer!”

“I apologize, Mr. Kinney, I don't mean to offend you,” replied the oncologist, looking immediately contrite. “The reason I am so overjoyed is that we caught it in very, very early stages and your prognosis is excellent. In your case, you won't even require chemotherapy. We've removed the infected tumor completely without any complications. Fifteen radiation sessions spread over three weeks should nip any other problems in the bud. The survival rate for cases such as yours is 95% or higher. You are young, very fit, very healthy, so I'd probably put your survival rate much higher than that. Mr. Kinney, you have excellent, excellent chances of beating it completely.”

“Why can't I take the radiation in 15 consecutive days? Why three weeks?”

“Radiation is essentially poison, Mr. Kinney. Radiation therapy isn't pleasant. Many people say that it's worse than the disease, at least the initial stages of it, but it is necessary. In order for the body to respond favorably to treatment, it needs time to recover. So, you'll have radiation five times a week with the weekend to rest. Trust me when I tell you, Mr. Kinney, you'll want those two days.”

 _Great! Not only do I have cancer, I missed my vacation and now my business will go down the fucking toilet while radiation will put me out of commission for two extra weeks!_ He thought angrily.

~*~*~*~

By Friday afternoon, he was deemed sufficiently recovered from surgery, was discharged and took the evening flight back to Pittsburgh. On Sunday he called Cynthia, told her that he cut his vacation short (everyone thought he actually did go to Costa Rica) and told her that he would take the 10:30 am client meeting the next morning and that he'll see her in the office in the afternoon.

On Monday, when he started radiation treatments, Brian did not believe the nurse that he'll hit a wall in the afternoon. He was fine all morning and during most of the meeting with a client, but he ended up cutting the meeting short when he started feeling off the closer it got to noon. He left the clients office, feeling worse by the second, hoping that he'll make it across town to the loft. Twenty minutes later, he had to pull off onto the shoulder on the freeway because he felt horribly ill. He barely opened the door of the Vette, when his body gave out and he violently threw up.

Jennifer Taylor was driving her Mercedes right behind Brian and recognized his classic car. She saw him swerving onto the shoulder with emergency lights on and concerned did the same. She witnessed him being sick and ran towards him. Initially, she thought that Brian was drunk, but soon realized that there was no smell of alcohol anywhere and he looked genuinely ill.

“Brian, it's Jennifer Taylor. I was your realtor a while back. You look terrible, what can I do to help?”

“Nothing you can do. I just need to get home,” he answered weakly.

“Home? You need to go to the hospital, by the look of you! I'm calling an ambulance.”

“No, no. It's normal, apparently. Cancer. I started radiation today. I didn't believe the nurse when she said it would get bad about four hours after. I damn well believe her now,” he said, then he bent over and threw up again.

“Cancer! Oh, god, I'm sorry. Well, you can't drive like this. Is there anyone I can call who can pick you up? Family, friends?”

“No. There's no one. No one knows.”

“What? That's insane!”

“What fucking business is it of yours? You are nobody to me!”

“I maybe a nobody to you, Brian, but I won't leave you alone here to fend for yourself.”

“I just need to get home. I'll be fine.”

“How far away is your house?”

“Loft. Tremont, not far from Liberty avenue.”

“Jesus, that's across town, you'll never make it in this condition. Let me drive you home.”

“I am not leaving my car on the side of the fucking freeway. No way!” Then he bent double as his now empty stomach violently squeezed again and he began to dry heave, as sweat that was previously beading on his forehead began to run down his face.

“Oh, God, Brian! OK, I am making an executive decision. I live about a mile off of the next exit. You are going to follow me...”

“No,” he interrupted, or tried to.

“I said you are going to follow me to my house, where you will clean up and you will rest until you feel better. No arguments! You will let me take care of you until you are well enough to drive your precious car home, is that understood?”

“Yes, mother,” he tried to sound sarcastic, but the weakness in his voice ruined the effect.

“That's Mother Taylor to you, young man! I'm parked right behind you. I'll go around, follow me and if at any point you need to stop, just hit the emergency light, OK?”

“Yes, Mother Taylor,” he answered meekly.

“Good!” They had to stop twice more during the less than two mile drive to Jennifer's town house.

~*~*~*~

She made him strip his soiled clothes in order to throw them in the wash. When she first suggested it, he attempted to make a lame joke about her having designs on his body, to which she responded, “I hate to break it to you, but you are a bit on the young side for me. Besides, I thought you were gay?”

“How did you know?”

“My son is gay. I guess I started to pick up the signals, develop, what do you call it...gaydar. Besides, you living not far from Liberty Avenue, being very familiar with the baths building that you purchased and your checking out every attractive male in my realty office kind of clinched any suspicions I had. So, that being said, strip. You can think of me as a doctor, if you are shy. I've been married and raised a son, so I've seen it all when it comes to the male body.”

Brian attempted to laugh, but started dry heaving again instead. When he got himself under control again, he said, “I'm not shy, some might even consider me an exhibitionist. This just fucking sucks and it's only the fist day.”

“How many sessions will you have?”

“Fourteen more.”

She took him upstairs and helped him out of his clothes near the guest bathroom. Then she led him to a bedroom nearby. “This is my son's room. He's in college, but stays here during the holidays.”

She helped him get into bed. Then she brought a towel and a cool, wet washcloth and gently wiped down his face and heck to get rid of the sweat. She dried him with a towel, covered him with a sheet and blanket and left the room. She returned a few minutes later with an empty, newly lined trash can and placed it by the bed. Then she brought a bottle of water and a glass half filled with mouthwash.

“If you need to throw up, just use the trashcan. Here's some water and mouthwash. It won't help much, but it might make your mouth feel a little better. I'll go make you something to eat. Something easy, like chicken soup and crackers. Now, get some rest.”

“Jennifer.”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

~*~*~*~

Brian slept, though not very well. Jennifer woke him up and gave him a bowl of chicken soup and some soft bread, which seemed to settle his stomach a little, however, an hour later he woke up and promptly threw up again. Jennifer heard and came up to the bedroom to help. She wiped his head and and face with a new washcloth, brought him a can of ginger ale, just in case, and a packet of crackers. Falling asleep again Brian thought,  _So, this is what having a real mother is like? Whoever her kid is, he's one lucky son of a bi...gun._

Debbie was like a mother to him - in fact, he considered her to be more of a mother than his real one – she took care of him and his hurts like he was her own son when he came to her house bruised and bloody from his father's beatings. She always took care of him, cleaned him up, healed him and made him feel better. Her “take-charge,” no-nonsense, no-bullshit ways always made the humiliation of his being abused a lot easier to handle, so he came to her for help time and time again. The thing was that her brash, loud and sometimes obnoxious personality never changed, as if there was no “off” switch, which meant that until now he had never experienced true gentleness and calm from a mother-figure. Being cared for so thoroughly, gently and calmly, yet without making him feel like a child or an invalid, was a brand new experience in the realm of his existence.

Brian planned to stay for a couple of hours, three tops, just until he felt well enough to drive home; but his weakened body had other ideas. Exhausted from vomiting, dry heaving, discomfort and pain, his body eventually succumbed to sleep an before he knew it, he was waking up at six am the next morning without the aide of an alarm.

“Shit!” He exclaimed as soon as he realized that he spent the night in a stranger's home, in the house of a woman he barely knew, in her son's bed.

Suddenly, he was curious about him. He remembered that she said he was gay and away at uni. Apparently, she didn't disapprove of his sexuality, since she spoke of him with obvious love and kept this room for him intact, though he only stayed here for holidays. He spotted a cork board hanging above a writing desk in the corner, a few bits of paper and photos tacked on. He walked up and leaned closer to take a look and was astonished to see Justin's face smiling back at him from a couple of snapshots of him with his hands around a girl's shoulders. The girl looked familiar and he suddenly remembered meeting her for about two minutes at the bar of the Dorchester hotel in London. Daphne, he remembered, Justin's best friend since childhood.

Brian shook his head and thought,  _What are the odds? What are the fucking odds that the woman who took care of me would be Justin's mother?_

Taylor wasn't exactly a unique or an uncommon last name. He remembered thinking that there was something vaguely familiar about the blonde woman when she introduced herself to him in a coffee shop and offered him her realtor services. But even after learning her last name he never connected her to Justin.

“ _Justin...”_  he thought with regret. He momentarily wished he had contacted Justin and told him about the cancer, the surgery, of not being able to meet him in Costa Rica. But he ruthlessly pushed those thoughts aside, regrets were bullshit, after all. He had made his decision and he still believed it was the right one. Justin might be upset with him for missing the trip, but they didn't make promises to each other, just a tentative plan. After all, they weren't dating, they weren't partners, they owed nothing to each other, he tried to convince himself. Justin would chalk this up to the end of their yearly meetings.

_He would forget that I ever existed and he would move on, just as he should._

His thoughts were interrupted by Jennifer who, quietly opened the door to check on him and found him awake. Brian looked over, unconcerned with his nudity.

“Brian, you are awake!”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel?”

“Better, much better. Thank you, Jennifer, for your hospitality and kindness,” he said rather stiffly, suddenly uncomfortable. She looked at him and smiled.

“Why do I think that you are not very comfortable with gratitude?”

“It's not the gratitude. I have a problem with pity and charity.”

“Brian, I don't pity you and this wasn't charity. I do feel sorry for your illness, for you having to go through the pain and the discomfort of it. Especially, if you are going through it alone. But you know what? I don't know you very well, but something in my gut tells me that you are strong enough to weather anything, even this, even alone. Something in you reminds me of my son.”

Brian's eyebrows shot up and surprise and skepticism colored his face.

“Let me explain. My son, Justin - that's his picture, by the way – he was beaten up once. Some classmates of his didn't like the fact that he was gay, so they cornered him and beat him bloody. Thankfully, he wasn't seriously hurt, but he had bruises, minor cuts and abrasions all over his face and body for weeks. We reported the attackers, but nothing was done. In fact, Justin got suspended for three days for fighting in school. The police did nothing, refused to press charges of any kind due to 'lack of evidence.' I wanted to send him to a different school, but my ex-husband – Justin's father, who found out Justin was gay because of this beating – was furious, blamed Justin for the whole thing and refused. It was a mess.

You know what Justin did? He refused to leave the school, refused to take extra sick days. He went to school the very next day after his suspension was over, in bandages, bruised and limping. His bravery made me enormously proud of him and scared me senseless. But that's who he is to the core – brave, relentless and ever hopeful that he can and will overcome anything. I sense something very similar in you. That's why you so remind me of him; that 'fuck them all' attitude, if you pardon the expression. My point is that this wasn't charity, not in any way, not on any level. I have a problem with seeing anyone in pain, so I would have done the same for anyone. But the fact that I slightly know you, plus the whole 'you remind me of my son' thing basically guaranteed that I wasn't going to just up and leave you on the side of the highway. I was trying to be a friend, Brian, not some high-and-mighty benefactor trying to make herself feel more important.”

Brian was somewhat stunned. Justin's mother seemed to actually like him.  _I wonder if her opinion would change if she knew I have fucked her son, and on several occasions._  Brian thought, but decided to keep quiet on that subject; instead he thanked her again.

“You are welcome. Now, I washed your shirt and underwear, but your suit had to go to the dry cleaners, I'm afraid, and it won't be ready until after eight am. Something tells me you wouldn't want to drive to your loft in your underwear. Unfortunately, I don't have anything to lend you. My son is quite a bit shorter than you, so nothing of his will fit.”

Brian laughed.

“I've been standing here in front of you naked for the past 10 minutes. Do you really think I'll have a problem driving home in my briefs?”

“I guess not,” She chuckled, then blushed. “Well, we might as well wait for the dry cleaners. Why don't you take a shower and then come down for breakfast. Towels are in the linen closet, help yourself.”

Then she smiled and walked out of the room. He sighed, looked back at Justin's picture and a sudden wave of longing assailed him. He wanted to see that sunshine smile in person quite desperately and then a realization hit him – the longing he felt for the blond had no affect on his cock, which remained alarmingly unresponsive – the radiation, it seemed, rendered him impotent. He suddenly remembered the doctor telling him of this potential side affect, which wasn't supposed to remain permanent.

 _But what if it is...permanent?_  Brian thought in a panic. Not only would he be a “one ball wonder,” he'd be an impotent one. The idea was beyond imagining, so he pushed the thought and the fear aside. Before he managed to do it, though, a thought appeared unbidden in his mind,  _I was right to let him go. He wouldn't want me imperfect...who the fuck would?_

Twenty minutes later he came downstairs to the kitchen. Jennifer put a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs and a couple of wedges of whole wheat bread on the side in front of him.

“I don't normally eat breakfast, you know? A protein shake and coffee mostly,” Brian said, smiling.

“Once you are done with radiation you can eat whatever you want, Brian, but right now your body needs fuel and since it looks like you'll be emptying your guts every afternoon for the next few weeks, you are going to have to eat breakfast. Eggs are good for you, full of protein and they'll be easy on your stomach. I would've made bacon, but I thought the grease would be a bit much. Acidic stuff probably wouldn't be a good thing either. Are you lactose intolerant?”

“No, why?”

“Milk. You need milk. It would be a bit more soothing to your stomach than orange juice.”

“I kind of hate milk.”

“You'll drink it!”

“Yes, mother Taylor,” he said with a smirk, making her laugh.

”I'll pour you a cup of coffee, very good coffee, even if I do say so myself, if you are a good boy and drink a small glass of milk for me and eat all your eggs and toast.”

“Yes, mother Taylor.” They ate in companionable silence, then as promised, she poured him a mug of fragrant coffee.

“How do you take it?”

“Black. Some sugar. OK, a lot of sugar.”

They drank coffee in silence for a couple of minutes, then Jennifer asked, “Where's your family?”

“Huh?”

“Your parents, sisters, brother. Where are they?”

“My father's dead. I don't really speak to my mother, same with my sister.”

“I'm sorry about your father. Why don't you talk to your mother, if you don't mind my asking?”

Brian minded, he minded a great deal, but in light of her helping him, he decided not to be his customary rude self and be honest instead.

“Oh, the whole 'you are going to hell because you are a fag and an abomination in God's eyes' thing. That put a damper on our relationship, which wasn't all that great to begin with. As for my father, I was glad when that abusive drunk finally let go of the mortal coil. I went to a bar and toasted his demise; so your sympathy, though appreciated, is completely unnecessary.”

“I'm sorry, that's awful.”

“I told you I hate pity.”

“I don't pity you, I pity them. Though I do wish you had better parents. Do you have anyone else?”

“What do you mean?”

“No one, absolutely no one should be going through this alone, Brian. Why are you? Do you have other relatives, friends, a significant other who can be there for you right now?”

“I hate that term 'significant other' even more than I hate milk...”

“OK, a boyfriend then, if you don't like that term. And please stop evading my question. Why are you doing this alone, Brian?”

“I told you, I hate pity and charity. If my friends knew, they'd first fall apart and I'd have to take care of them instead of myself until they are coherent again and then they'll smother me with both relentless pity and unwanted charity. Trust me when I say it will be easier for me to get through this myself and sometime in the future say 'oh, by the way, I've had testicular cancer and survived.' If I do survive and the cancer doesn't come back, that is.”

She nodded, thinking.

“So, no boyfriend then?”

“God, you are relentless. And, no, I don't do boyfriends.” 

“Ah, you are love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy.”

“More like 'fuck them and leave them,' actually. Besides, what do you know know of those kind of guys?”

“What, do you think gay men have the monopoly on promiscuity?” She laughed. “If only! My ex-husband had an affair with his secretary. My son...” She trailed off.

“Your son is what? Promiscuous?”

“We don't exactly talk about his love life, I'm afraid,” She said, blushing.

“What exactly makes you uncomfortable? Talking about two men fucking or talking about your son specifically fucking or being fucked by another man?”

“Don't get defensive, Brian,” She said primly. “It's not that I am uncomfortable. I was at first, but I contacted a PFLAG chapter after I found out Justin was gay. I talked to this wonderful woman named Debbie, who gave me enough material to read for weeks. I know all the 'mechanics' of it, as it were, and even though some of it was on the surprising side, you know what I realized? It's just sex and relatively tame compared to some of the things I've heard really kinky straight people do.”

That comment made Brian choke on his coffee, but he refused to elaborate and urged Jennifer continue.

“Besides, there are some straight people that enjoy anal sex. After I thought in those terms, I seized to be embarrassed and uncomfortable. It's difficult to see your son as a man, with a man's needs and desires. Straight or gay, it's not an easy thing for a mother, but I got over it for him. The problem is that he is uncomfortable to talk about these things with me. We've had a few very brief conversations, so I know he isn't a virgin anymore. Going back to your question, my son isn't promiscuous, per se, but he doesn't seem to want a long term relationship anymore. Says its easier to date someone for a few months, get the 'maximum of pleasure, with the minimum of bullshit' and move on to someone else a couple of months later. He doesn't have indiscriminate sex with every attractive guy he meets, thankfully. It seems he has had a few short term boyfriends, but no one really touches his heart. That worries me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want him to find happiness that lasts beyond a few orgasms and that will lead to true contentment. I want him to find love and to be loved in return. I want him to have a partner to share a life with. I don't want him to be alone like...”

“Me?”

Jennifer blushed again, but then steadily met his gaze. “Truth?” Brian nodded.

“Yes, like you  _and_  like me. If, God forbid, my son had cancer and I wasn't there, I would hope he'd have someone who loved him enough to be there for him through thick and thin...”

“For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do they part?” Brian asked with his usual sardonic smirk.

“You can be as sarcastic as you like, Brian Kinney. But yes, if my son finds someone he wants to marry someday, I'd be ecstatic to throw him a wedding or a commitment ceremony, or whatever kind of party he wants. He deserves nothing less.”

“Even if it's not legal? Even if it's bullshit, a sham in the eyes of the law and of any sane individual?”

“If it's not bullshit or a sham in his heart, then it's not bullshit or a sham to me. I'd celebrate it regardless and when it does become legal, well, I'll celebrate it again.”

“Well, he's still young. Isn't he still in college? He's got plenty of time to find someone. Don't worry so much, Mother Taylor, even if he ends up without a husband, with you in his corner he's never going to be alone.”

“Why, thank you, Brian. That's quite a compliment.”

“I mean it.”

“Wait a minute,” she suddenly laughed, “You said 'husband.' It's funny, I've always had the word 'partner' in mind when thinking of my gay son tying the knot. But you are right, he will be and he will have a husband. How lovely!”

“Lovely.” Brian guffawed, “Lovely?”

“Yes, Brian – lovely! And I sincerely hope that someday you'll meet someone whom you'll want to keep, rather than cast aside. You are a nice man, Brian, and you deserve the same happiness I want for my son.”

“OK. Introduce me,” Brian said recklessly, wanting to see her reaction.

“To Justin? There's at least an eight year difference between you two, he's only twenty one.”

“Twelve. Twelve-year difference. Yeah, you are right, he's too young for me. Plus, neither of you would want him to be saddled with an impotent one-ball-wonder,” he said without thinking.

“Impotent?”

“Yeah,” Brian flushed in embarrassment, “seems it's a side affect of radiation. The doctor said I could either lose my hair or my hard on. God plays dirty pool, if he exists at all – I would've rather lost my hair.”

“I'm sure it's temporary, Brian. You should be concentrating on making sure this cancer is dead and out of your body. Once you are healthy again, then you can worry about your hard on. And as far as Justin is concerned, I am 100% certain that if he truly loved you, hypothetically speaking, he wouldn't care whether you had one ball or two. I certainly wouldn't consider you an invalid. All either of us would care about would be your full recovery. About you meeting my son...”

Brian tried to interrupt her, “I was joking, Jennifer...”

She held up her hand, shutting him up.

“Let me finish. About you meeting my son - I am not necessarily opposed. The age difference is a concern, but it's not exactly a May-December type situation. In fact, one of my co-workers married a guy 20 years her senior – they've been together for twenty years and are still insanely happy. Makes me green with envy, let me tell you. The fact that Justin is still in college is a bigger issue. The biggest problem of all, though, is that 'you don't do boyfriends,' by your own admission. So, it would be pointless for me to introduce you two. I want Justin to find a partner, a husband, not just...”

“Another fuck?”

“You certainly don't mince words, Brian. But, yes, if we are being blunt – I am sure he can find 'just another fuck' without his mother pimping for him.”

Brian laughed, finding her comment infinitely hilarious.

“Did you just say 'pimping for him'?” He laughed even harder and said, “You are going to make someone an awesome mother-in-law someday.”

“Why?” She asked, smiling widely.

“Cause you are certainly not boring.”

A little after 8, Jennifer went to the dry cleaners and picked up Brian's suit. At 8:30, he thanked her again for her hospitality and kindness and went to the hospital for his 9 am radiation treatment. He headed the doctors' and nurses' advice this time and told Cynthia and Ted that he was under the weather, and would be working from home the rest of the week. He came straight to the loft after the hospital and worked as much as he could for as long as he could. When he started feeling ill, he went to bed.

Around two pm, a knock on his door surprised him. Afraid that it would be one of his friends, he decided not to answer, when he heard Jennifer on the other side.

“Brian, it's Jennifer Taylor. Are you there?” He reluctantly opened the door and asked her with a scowl.

“What are you doing here? How did you get my address and how did you get up here?”

“I am not letting you do this by yourself Brian. If you don't want your friends or family to know, if it's easier for you this way, that's your choice and I understand that. But, no one should have to deal with this by themselves. So, you won't, because I'll be there to help you. You told me where you live yesterday, I just looked up the building and apartment number from your file when you purchased that building for your company, Kinnetik, isn't it? To answer your last question, someone was leaving just as I got here. I decided it would be more expedient to just come up. Anyway, I brought you some chicken soup.”

“I don't want any fucking chicken soup! Didn't I tell you I don't need your fucking concern, pity or charity?” He shouted angrily, then he ran into the kitchen, barely making it to the trashcan before violently throwing up. A few seconds later he felt a soothing hand gently caressing his back in circles, suddenly making him feel like crying because it felt so damn good. When he was done throwing up, he collapsed on the floor, his back against the kitchen island and closed his eyes. He felt a damn paper towel being placed in his hand. He wiped his face and mouth gratefully, then he heard her opening his fridge. He opened his eyes and saw her take a bottle of water, twist it open and hand it to him. His hand slightly shook, but he managed to take a few sips without spilling.

“Come on, Brian, let me help you up. Where's your bedroom?” She helped him stand up and helped him up to his bedroom. Then she did the same thing as the day before in her house – she got a freshly lined trashcan from his bathroom and placed it by his bedside, she found a couple of washcloths in his linen closet and put then within easy reach, she got him a glass of water and a glass filled with mouthwash. She covered him lightly with a blanket, brushed his hair from his face and went downstairs. A few minutes later she came back carrying a bowl of chicken soup.

She sat next to him on the bed, looked at him sternly and said, “For the last time, Brian, this isn't pity or charity, it's friendship. I am strong enough handle your nausea, so you don't have to worry about taking care of me. And I won't smother you with pity. All I want is to make things a little bit easier, that's all.”

He looked at her and realized that she was completely sincere. He closed his eyes again and whispered, “I'm sorry.”

“What for? For being rude? OK, I'll accept your apology. Now, sit up, shut up and eat your fucking chicken soup!”

~*~*~*~

Over the next three weeks Jennifer came Monday through Friday between one and two in the afternoon. When he asked about her work, she said that as a realtor, her schedule could be quite flexible. She scheduled as many house showings as she could to early mornings and those she couldn't she moved to the weekend. She brought him chicken soup, made him green tea, which was supposedly better for his stomach. She made him light meals and protein shakes, and constantly made him drink water to keep him hydrated. She took out his trash, which was mostly filled with sick and a ton of soiled paper towels. She picked up and placed the dirty linens, towels and clothes into the hamper as they were being used and did his laundry on a nightly basis, so his loft always looked clean and didn't smell like vomit.

That first week, he hardly knew she was there. She left him alone, for the most part, quietly working on her laptop in his living room when she wasn't needed, knowing it was easier for him to be by himself. However, whenever he needed her, she was always there – sometimes silently rubbing his back, sometimes holding him up, when he was too weak to hold himself up. She silently helped him clean up, giving him damp washcloths or towels, helping him drink water or holding up the trashcan to make it easier to spit out the mouthwash he used to somewhat get the taste of sick out of his mouth. She was a soothing, calming, unobtrusive presence that silently gave him all the support, help, and space that he needed. By the end of the first week, he didn't know how he could have survived this ordeal without Jennifer Taylor's help.

The second week went largely as the first. But by the third week, feeling a lot more comfortable with her being there, he engaged her in conversation. He remembered that she had another kid and asked her where she was. She said that her daughter Molly was staying with her ex-husband for a couple of weeks. Before he could protest, she said that neither minded a slightly extended stay, so he didn't have to worry. She mentioned in passing that she was glad Justin arrived at school safely. Feigning ignorance, Brian asked where he's been.

“Oh, he went to Costa Rica for a couple of weeks. My son is quite the world traveler!” She said proudly and told him about a few of his overseas adventures, not knowing that Brian already knew of all of them. “I was worried about him this time,“ she continued, “because he's always traveled with friends, never alone.”

“Didn't he go to Italy alone for that art thing?” Brian asked.

“Yes, but he was going there to study. He had classes, other students around him, a place to live, so the whole thing felt different. Plus, he's been to Italy before – it was a somewhat familiar place. He has never been to Costa Rica before though. He was supposed to meet a friend there, someone he met abroad, as it happens. However, that person never showed up and Justin decided to explore the place on his own. I knew he would be fine, but I couldn't help worrying a little anyway. Now that he's back in school, I feel better.”

“Did he have a good time?”

“Yes, he did. Though I think he's upset that whoever that guy was didn't show up. I'm upset on his behalf, because it sounds like this 'someone' was important to him and now my son is heartbroken.”

“Nothing you can do about it,” Brian said quietly. “It's life, shit happens.”

“Yes, it does,” Jennifer sighed, “You getting cancer at 33 is certainly proof of the 'shit happens' saying. I just wish whoever it was had the decency to let Justin know in advance that he wasn't coming. I think it would have been a bit less painful for him.”

Brian stayed silent for a few minutes, thinking.

“Maybe. Don't worry though, your son is fucking hot... I mean, he's good looking enough that he won't be alone for long. I bet he'll forget all about the idiot who stood him up quickly enough.”

“Thank you, I think.” Jennifer laughed, blushing. “I'm sure Justin would be flattered by the compliment. And I hope so too, that he won't be heartbroken and alone for long, that is.”

“Yes, the elusive boyfriend and future husband...I hope Sunshine finds his one true love, you so desperately want him to have.”

“Sunshine?” Brian froze and then scrambled for an explanation.

“Oh, the pictures I saw in your house. The ones above his desk and some around your house. His smile looks like it can light up Broadway; it's almost unnaturally cheerful and happy. Sunny, you know? Hence...”

“Hence...Sunshine...”

“Yeah...” Brian ended lamely.

“Goodness, the way you talk one might think you have a crush on my son!” Jennifer said speculatively.

“Fuck no! I don't do crushes - definitely, absolutely not!”

“Definitely and absolutely, huh?” Jennifer laughed again. “Don't worry, I'll chalk it up to a side-effect of radiation. Sound good to you?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Speaking of crushes, though, I think my son had a crush on you a few years ago...” Jennifer said looking at a sketch of a naked Brian, not realizing that it was the one Justin drew at the Dorchester in London.

“What?”

“That sketch, the nude,” Jennifer nodded in the direction of Justin's drawing. “it looks a lot like some of my son's sketches that I found in his room by accident. That's how I found out he was gay. You've always seemed somehow familiar to me, but until I saw you in the nude in my house the day after your first radiation treatment, I didn't put two and two together. It's not really surprising since I've only managed to see those sketches just that once. He hid them somewhere else afterwords. Anyway, I asked him who you were, he told me that you were just a man he saw on the street once and one he was attracted to. At the time I was too shocked to press for details, but now...now, thinking back on it, I think it was a major, major crush.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Justin had dozens of sketches of you – nude, clothed and in between.” She smiled and winked. “He drew parts of your body too – your face, eyes, hands, feet and other, more interesting parts of your anatomy. He drew you two...ah....uhm...” She trailed off, blushing profusely.

“Fu...uhm, having sex?” Brian wasn't sure why he censored himself, but for some reason at that moment it felt like the right thing to do.

“Yeah...My son has quite the imagination. Oh, God, I just thought of something! What if it wasn't just imagination? I mean, by the time he and I had that conversation he wasn't a virgin anymore. What if he did all those things and just imagined them doing them with you?”

Jennifer's bewildered expression and the blush that was engulfing her entire face and that was intensifying to a tomato-like hue, made Brian laugh until his stomach hurt.

“Oh, Mother Taylor,” He said laughing and, suddenly, hiccuped. “I haven't seen those sketches, but by the expression on your face alone I can pretty much guarantee whatever it was you saw sketched was not _just_  his imagination. Do you still think hetero sex is kinkier?”

Jennifer didn't answer – she couldn't. She blushed even more, which Brian thought wasn't even possible to do and then walked out of the bedroom mumbling something about making more chicken soup. Brian continued snickering for a few minutes, thinking that Jennifer's reaction was utterly endearing. He realized that even though she was very accepting and understanding of her son's life and though she put on a good show of “knowing all about the mechanics of gay sex,” she was still very much an innocent, which greatly reminded him of Justin the night they met. His laughter died down when he started thinking of Justin. At first, he wanted to push those thoughts and memories away, as always, but then he let himself think of his blond. He fell asleep looking at Justin's sketch, thinking about his lover.

On Saturday, the day after his last radiation treatment Brian called a local florist and ordered a huge flower arrangement to be delivered to her town house. It had a card containing a simple statement “Thank you for everything, Mother Taylor. Brian Kinney”

~*~*~*~

By some miracle neither Debbie, nor his friends, nor his employees found out about the cancer or his radiation treatments. Brian has been out of town so much over the last few years that when his friends and family didn't see him for almost a month, no one was too concerned, especially since he made a point of talking to everyone periodically by phone. Almost everyone, besides Ted and Cynthia, thought he was in Costa Rica for the first two weeks and after they assumed he was working too much, as per usual, in order to make up the time he “lost” while on vacation. Though he told Ted and Cynthia that he was slightly sick, they knew something much more serious was was going on. Brian somehow managed to convince them that he picked up some sort of “foreign bug” in Costa Rica, that he was not contagious, not dying, but he did feel better working from home. Since he talked to both Ted and Cynthia every morning before his radiation treatments when he sounded his most usual self, they eventually believed him and stopped worrying.

Brian could bullshit anyone and he was successful enough at bamboozling everyone close to him that no one found out what he went trough for more than a month. He ended up confessing to Debbie late one night while walking her home from the diner. She was shocked at first, then she got angry that he kept it from everyone, then she started crying and hugged him to within an inch of his life. When he convinced her that he was OK and at the last check-up was cancer free, she finally let go, laughed, said that she was happy for him and then covering her face with her well-manicured hands burst into tears again. It was Brian's turn to give Debbie a hug, he wrapped his arms around her and held her until she stopped crying. She finally looked up at him, sniffed and asked.

“Does your mother know?”

He kissed her on the cheek and answered, “The one who counts does. I just told her. The one who gave birth to me wouldn't give a shit.”

“Oh, Brian, honey...”

“And Deb, this is why I didn't tell anyone. If I did, half the time I would have had to take care of you lot, rather than myself. Admit it, you know it's true.” She gave him a watery smile and mumbled something that sounded like a maybe.

After his illness, Brian returned to work with a vengeance, as did his libido, one glorious night at Babylon. A month after his radiation treatments had ended, he was still unable to get it up and was genuinely worried. His doctor just told him that everything was perfectly fine with his body, that he should be patient and just give it time. On October 31st he went to Babylon with Mikey, Ben, Emmett, Ted and their boyfriends to the annual Halloween Costume Ball. Mikey, unsurprisingly, went as Captain Astro, while his partner Ben dressed up as Clark Kent, saying he refused to wear underwear as outerwear. Emmett went as Cupid, wearing the tiniest pair of white shorts, a pair of angel wings, a halo and brandished a red, glittery bow and arrow; while his boyfriend Calvin dressed up as a cowboy - chaps, spurs and all. Ted was the Phantom, from The Phantom of the Opera; while his date Peter was a peasant of some sort, apparently from another opera. They all looked at Brian, who was dressed in tight black jeans and a black wife-beater, and asked him what the hell kind of costume was that. Brian said that he was “the guy that survived cancer” and his friends, completely shocked, promptly shut up for five solid minutes before inundating him with questions.

An hour later, Brian was standing on the catwalk, listening to the familiar thumpa-thumpa beat and looked at a sea of dancing men somewhat mournfully. Then suddenly, he spied a mop of blond hair somewhere in the middle of the dance floor and his heart began to thud heavily in his chest. He couldn't see who it was very well – there were just too many gyrating bodies around, obscuring his line of sight – but he was hoping it was Justin. He slowly made his way down the stairs and then through the dancing crowd. His heart picked up it's pace and was beating faster and faster with each step he took and heat was spreading throughout his body. Suddenly, his dick came to life and he could have sworn he got the biggest hard-on ever. A minute later, he made it to the blond twink who was dancing with his back to him. Brian thought that something wasn't quite right, but his hand shot out and tapped the kid on the shoulder seemingly of it's own volition. The kid turned around and Brian was massively disappointed that it wasn't Justin. His dick, however, didn't mind the admiration in the twink's green eyes and insisted that the admiration needed to be thoroughly appreciated. Brian complied and led the blond twink into the back room, where he celebrated the return of his libido by fucking him into oblivion several times.

In the end, his dick seemed satisfied, but Brian wasn't. The whole time he was pounding into the blond, whose name he never did get, he was aware that the ass wasn't as perfectly round, the lips were a bit on the thin side, the smile not quite that bright and the blond hair turned out to have come from a bottle. The biggest disappointment were the eyes - they weren't the brilliant blue he wanted and expected to see every time the kid turned his head to look at him, they were green. The whole experience was like ordering Glenlivet 21 at the bar and getting Wild Turkey instead – like getting an inferior substitute instead of “the real thing.” Thinking of that night days after, Brian admitted to himself that he just couldn't get Justin out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. However, he resolved to stick to his decision and stay out of Justin's life.

He did continue to somewhat keep in touch with Justin's mother by sending her a four word email to her work address that he still had on file. The email said “Happy Thanksgiving! Brian Kinney”. Surprised, she replied by contacting him by phone at his office, wishing him the same and asking how he was doing. He assured her that he was cancer free and doing well, thanking her again for helping him. He ended the conversation politely, but fairly quickly and Jennifer understood that she reminded him of one of the worst episodes of his life and didn't blame him for wanting to keep his distance. Brian surprised Jennifer again on Christmas and Mother's Day, by sending her a bouquet of flowers for each of those holidays. She elected to reply by sending him a thank you card in return.

Since his radiation treatment ended, Brian didn't see Jennifer Taylor in person. He did his best to convince himself that it was because she reminded him of the horror that was cancer treatment, but deep down, he knew that his reluctance to keep in touch had nothing to do with cancer. He knew that if he saw or talked to her with any kind of regularity, he'd eventually break down and ask her about Justin. Unfortunately, he couldn't allow himself to do such a thing, because he promised himself to let Justin go and to stay out of his life. Brian Kinney very rarely made promises of any kind. Thus, when he made a promise of any sort, even one made to himself, Brian Kinney kept it.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are like cake - the more the better.


	7. Tuesday, August 23rd, 2005

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for your wonderful comments! Enjoy and let me know what you think.

**Part One**

Justin came back from Costa Rica completely heartbroken, thinking that Brian just didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. He hung around the San Jose airport for 20 hours, waiting for Brian to show up, thinking that they were utterly stupid not to have made more specific plans. He finally admitted to himself that Brian wasn't coming and as upset as he was, he nonetheless decided not to waste the opportunity to explore the country. Justin didn't want Brian to pay for everything on their trip, so he saved as much as he could throughout the year in order to pay his way as much as possible. He was therefore grateful that he had plenty of money to spend in Costa Rica.

He did a lot of research before his trip and he deliberately did everything he possibly could on his list of things to do. He fell in love with the tiny nation of Costa Rica despite the rain and hoped to go back there again someday. However, he knew that it would be a while before he would be able to set foot there without thinking of Brian and wondering why he stood him up.

When he was back stateside, however, he couldn't get the nagging feeling that there was something wrong and that maybe he, Justin, wasn't the reason why Brian didn't come to San Jose. He vacillated for a full week before finally giving in to his curiosity. He called Kinnetik and pretending to be a prospective client asked to speak with Mr. Kinney. He was told by Cynthia that Mr. Kinney was not in the office at the moment and could she please take a message. Justin hung up, thinking that Brian was working and that it was business as usual – he wasn't sick, dying or anything of the sort. He simply didn't want to go and that he, Justin, was so unimportant to Brian that he didn't care enough to let him know he wasn't going to be there. That possibility made Justin angry and not just at Brian, he was angry with himself for putting his heart on the line again, for hoping for something that clearly wasn't there, for wanting more. If anything cemented Justin's decision to steer clear of relationships and serious emotional entanglements it was that – he wasn't even in a relationship with Brian and he was in pain. It just hurt too much to care for someone that deeply and he resolved not do that anymore.

~*~*~*~

Once back at Dartmouth, Justin concentrated on his studies, taking an extra load of courses again, in order to graduate early. Justin finished his last semester of college, which thankfully consisted of nothing but art classes, and graduated with honors in December of 2004 with a degree in Bachelor of Business Administration in Marketing and a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Painting. His mother, sister and Daphne came for his graduation, while his father stayed away, but a good time was had by all regardless.

A couple of months before, in October, Justin got a frantic email from Kirill who announced that his girlfriend Rita was three months pregnant. He was scared shitless about becoming a father sooner than planned or expected, but he was excited about getting married over the winter holidays. He invited Justin to come to the wedding if he was able, going so far as to offer to pay for his airfare. Justin heartily accepted the invitation, but declined the offer of a ticket. He didn't spend as much money as he thought he would in Costa Rica and had enough left over for airfare to Moscow, which was much more affordable in winter. He continued to sell his drawings and paintings in the local businesses that have been supporting his art for over three years in order to save money for any extraneous expenses in Russia.

Kirill's father pulled some strings with an expedited tourist visa and on Decemer 20th Justin was on his way to Moscow for his friends' wedding which took place five days later on Decemer 25th. It was a bit strange to Justin to be going to a wedding on what in America is Christmas Day. Kirill's family, being Russian Orthodox, celebrated Christmas on January 7th, so that Saturday didn't hold any other significance to them other than the importance of the wedding itself. Justin, therefore, was rather shocked to receive a beautiful wooden box filled with custom made, expensive art supplies from Kirill and his family for Christmas when he woke up that morning. He was happy to have had the foresight to bring several of his drawings as gifts, which was all he could afford, to his friend, his new wife and his family. He briefly thought of giving them the gifts right then, but ultimately decided to save them for New Years day, when Kirill's family usually exchanged holiday presents.

He was fascinated with all the local wedding traditions and with the ceremony itself, which took place with all the appropriate pomp and circumstance at the Russian version of a Justice of the Peace. After the civil ceremony, the couple had a church wedding as well in an absolutely gorgeous Orthodox Cathedral. Even though Justin has seen dozens of Russian churches on his last trip to Russia, his hands still itched for his sketchpad and pencil throughout the 45 minute wedding ceremony.

The wedding party lasted for two days, as per tradition, and by Monday night when the festivities finally ended Justin was exhausted, but enormously happy to have been a part of it all. The happy couple planned to stay in Moscow until after New Years day and to go on a short honeymoon to the house in Ibiza on January 2nd, the same day that Justin was returning home to the states.

Justin considered moving back to Pittsburgh after graduation, but the large scale abstract canvas he submitted for his senior project caught the attention of an art critic from Art Forum magazine who happened to be visiting friends in town and caught the student art show on campus. Unbeknownst to Justin, the critic wrote up a glowing review that appeared in print when Justin was in Russia for Kirill's wedding. The day after Justin returned from Russia, he was contacted by a couple of galleries out of New York City who wanted to see his work, so instead of moving back home to Pittsburgh, he moved there. Justin was happy to be re-united with Daphne, who was still at NYU in the pre-med program. Two childhood friends haven't seen much of each other since their backpacking trip through Europe. Their close friendship survived mostly through email contact, phone calls and rare visits over the holidays. They were both glad to be living in the same city again.

After sleeping on Daphne's couch for about a month, Justin found an entry-level job in the art department of a prestigious advertising agency in midtown Manhattan, Stewart Grumman North, which was named for the three founders and senior partners in the firm. He also found a sub-basement apartment to rent not far from NUY, that had basically no natural light and was the size of a closet, but it was all his and Justin was content. One of the two galleries who were interested in his work, liked the rest of his portfolio enough to include two of his paintings at an upcoming “New Voices in Art” exhibit. To Justin, all of these developments were the proverbial “beginning of the rest of his life” and he couldn't be more enthusiastic about the future.

~*~*~*~

Two things happened in the month of May that made Justin's life infinitely happier. The first centered around Brian and the second around Kirill.

Since he had missed Thanksgiving due to having too much schoolwork his last semester and Christmas due to Kirill's wedding in Moscow, Justin decided to surprise his mother with a weekend visit on Mother's day, which fell on a Sunday that year. Justin arrived in Pittsburgh on Saturday afternoon to his mother's and sister's delight. The three Taylors spent Saturday afternoon at the art museum as they used to do when Justin was growing up, they had gelato and coffee at a new cafe that opened recently; then they went to the movies and afterwords to dinner. Justin was having a good time with his family, even though the movie was the worst kind of chick-flick possible.

On Sunday, May 8th, Justin snuck out of the house early in order to get a decent bouquet of flowers for his mother for Mother's Day. His sister Molly got up early also in order to make Jennifer her favorite breakfast. Justin found a lovely arrangement of multicolored peonies, one of the few flowers that didn't make his allergies go haywire. Justin thought it made a nice accompaniment to his main Mother's Day gift, which was a portrait of Jennifer and Molly that he painted for her months ago.

The Taylors had a lovely breakfast, enjoying each others' company and talking about their lives. Molly told Justin of her experiences as a freshman in a public high school and recounted a few adventures with her friends. Jennifer talked about her work in the realty office and of the enormous commission she just earned from selling a mansion in the country. Justin talked of his second trip to Russia, of the beautiful wedding he attended and of the mind-numbing cold that was winter in Moscow.

Their lively conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door and the gigantic flower arrangement that cost at least a couple of hundred dollars that was delivered to Jennifer.

“Mom, care to explain?” Justin asked, his small bouquet of peonies looked rather pathetic by comparison.

“Oh, Jus, Mom has a secret boyfriend. He sent her an arrangement just like that one at Christmas,” Molly said, mischief in her eyes.

“Boyfriend? And you didn't tell me? Mom, how could you keep something like that from me! Who is he? What's his name? What does he do? How long have you been dating?” Justin asked rapidly, completely ignoring Jennifer's protestations.

“His name is Brian Kinney,” Molly said before Jennifer could explain anything at all.

“What?” Justin roared. His ears were suddenly filled with a buzzing noise, heart began to beat so hard, it felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest and he started to sweat for no reason whatsoever.

“Oh God, Molly, stop embarrassing me and torturing your brother, already!” Jennifer said amid her daughter's wild giggles. “Brian Kinney is definitely not my boyfriend, secret or otherwise.”

“So why is he sending you an uber expensive flower arrangement for Mother's Day?” Molly asked, egging her mother on and thoroughly enjoying her brother's utter confusion.

“Molly, stop it!” Jennifer begged, then she turned towards Justin and explained, “It's his over-the-top way of thanking me for helping him. See, the card says  _'Happy Mother's Day, Mother Taylor! Thank you for everything. Brian Kinney'._ If he were my boyfriend, why would he refer to me as Mother Taylor? He's a former client of mine, a  _young_ client of mine, who is also  _gay_ , I might add! I sold him a building for his advertising agency a couple of years ago. Then last fall I found out that he had cancer and was going through radiation therapy alone. He had no one to help him, so I did. We became friends, sort of, and now he sends me flowers on occasion.”

“Last fall?” Justin asked, anxiously. “When?”

“Last week of August and a couple of weeks in September, I think. He told me he had surgery on August 23rd, which I remember because that's the day you flew out to Costa Rica. Poor thing had three weeks of radiation and was going to go through it all by himself because he stubbornly refused to tell his family. Said he didn't want to worry them.”

 _Oh, my God, Brian had cancer! He didn't go to Costa Rica because he had cancer. He was in fucking surgery when I was on my way to San Jose. If he didn't even tell his family about it, no wonder he didn't say anything to me. Fuck, cancer! God, please let him be OK!_ Justin thought frantically, at once elated that there was a much more legitimate reason for him missing their planned trip, than him just not wanting Justin; and terrified for Brian's health at the same time.

“And you helped him? A virtual stranger?” Justin asked, doing his very best trying to sound normal and not let his panic show through.

“Well, of course, I helped him! And he wasn't a virtual stranger, I knew him slightly through work. I just couldn't let him go through something like that alone.”

“I take it he's OK, since he's sending you flowers,” Justin said casually.

“Yes, I briefly talked to him at Thanksgiving and he said he was 100% cancer free. I'm very happy he's healthy, he is a good man.”

Jennifer briefly thought of telling Justin that Brian Kinney was the man from the sketches he made back in high school; the one Justin had a crush on back then. But then she decided that that information won't serve any real purpose and might actually embarrass her son, so she let that thought go. At that moment, Justin came up to her and gave her a fierce hug and a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“You are the best, Mom, just the best!” Justin said fervently. “Not many people would do something like that, actually very few would. I am so proud to have a mother like you.”

“Thank you, honey. I am so proud of you too. I am proud of both of my children,” Jennifer said, tears in her eyes, her voice full of emotion. A hug-fest ensued between all three Taylors, full of mutual admiration and happy tears. Then Molly decided to cut the emotional overload short by instigating a tickle war, until all three blondes were lying on the floor laughing hysterically.

Justin spent a nice afternoon with his mother, cooking her favorite dish – a jambalaya – for lunch, while Molly made dessert. He so wanted to make contact with Brian and tell him that he understood why he didn't go on their trip, but he couldn't. The only telephone number he had was the one for Kinnetik and since it was Sunday, he correctly assumed that the place would be closed. He wished, if only for a moment, that he could go to the loft on Tremont and see if Brian was there and talk to him, but he came to Pittsburgh to celebrate Mother's Day and he didn't want to cut his time with his mother short for selfish reasons.

In the end, he went back to New York that evening no longer angry, not with himself and not with Brian; and there was lightness in his heart and hope in his soul. He decided that maybe Kirill was right – maybe fate had a hand in his and Brian's story. He decided to make one phone call to Kinnetik the next morning and either talk to Brian or leave him a message and leave the rest up to Fate.

~*~*~*~

The second event that had a positive impact on Justin's life happened a couple of weeks later, in the last days of May. Justin received an excited email from Kirill announcing his acceptance to the Columbia University for a Masters Degree in International Finance and Monetary Policy. His wife Rita and their child would be moving to New York with him. Justin was quite happy to hear that pretty soon he'll have another friend in New York City with him. A flurry of emails were sent back and forth between the two friends discussing all the details.

Rita gave birth to a beautiful baby boy they named Nikita on March 5th, almost a full month early. Thankfully, the kid came out healthy and with a very healthy weight for being so premature. In June Kirill and Rita both graduated and by mid-July the young family relocated to New York, settling in a beautiful three bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side that Kirill's father purchased for them. Both Kirill and Rita were thoroughly disgusted with Justin's sub-basement apartment when they saw it and immediately offered him the extra bedroom at their place. At first Justin refused, saying that he couldn't afford to pay rent for what a room like that would be worth. His friends laughed and said that they didn't expect rent, since they paid none themselves. When Justin tried to protest, they said that they could treat his residency with them as a loan and when he became a famous artist and rich beyond his wildest dreams, he could pay them back, with interest if he wished.

“Besides,” Rita said, “I fully expect you to help with cooking, cleaning and the occasional babysitting when Kirill and I go out on a date night.”

Justin was still unsure, he hated the idea of accepting what amounted to be charity, but then Kirill threw down his trump card.

“You realize we are in the top floor corner unit with roof access at the end of a block, right? Meaning lots and lots of natural light and your bedroom is four times as large as your entire apartment, if you can even call it that. Justin, you will be able to paint again.”

Justin's subbasement apartment wasn't large enough for an easel and had no ventilation to speak of, meaning, up until that point, oil painting was out of the question. At the moment, he couldn't afford to rent studio space in Manhattan and no time to go to one somewhere out in the boroughs, even if he could find an affordable one out there. The idea that he would no longer be restricted to a sketchpad, pencil, charcoal and ink, was too good to resist and swallowing his pride he accepted their offer with a promise to pay his share of the utilities and groceries and to repay them as soon as he was able.

Finding someone to sublet his current place to turned out to be pretty easy – all he did was post a notice around NUY - and within a week he was roommates with Kirill, Rita and baby Niki, as they called them, and whom Justin adored without reservation.

~*~*~*~

A year after he was diagnosed with testicular cancer, Brian had a full physical and was pronounced 100% healthy and completely cancer free. He celebrated that fact by taking all his friends to Las Vegas for the weekend. Kinnetik was doing exceptionally well, making him richer than he ever thought he would be. Therefore, he had no problem whatsoever financing a three day Vegas extravaganza for eight people beside himself. Michael, Ben, Emmett, Calvin, Ted, Peter, Melanie and Lindsey had a lot of fun living it up Vegas style. Debbie and Carl, who were also invited, chose to stay behind in Pittsburgh and to babysit Gus, JR and Hunter, while the adults celebrated Brian's continued health and success.

Brian did his best to have a good time and for the most part he succeeded, though it became glaringly obvious to him throughout the weekend that while everyone was happily paired off, he was alone. Of course he was well aware of that fact ever since Vic's funeral and he was rather content with his single status. However, that fact was a lot easier to ignore in Pittsburgh, where he was too busy with his company and with Babylon, which he recently purchased at Ted's insistence to diversify his investments, and where getting a trick for an hour or for the night was as easy as getting a glass of Beam at the bar. Here in Vegas, the fact that he was alone was somehow more apparent than ever. Lindsay and Melanie ran off to do every single sickeningly romantic thing on the strip they could find, like the gondola ride in the fake canal around the Venetian hotel. Ted and Peter resolved to see every single Cirque du Soleil show they could in three days and to avoid bars, clubs and casinos as much as possible. Mickey was desperate to check out a comic book convention that was happening at the same time. Ben just wanted to see the tigers at the MGM Grand and the aquarium at Mandalay Bay Hotel, and was content to follow his husband around the rest of the time. Emmett and Calvin got tickets to a Celine Dion concert to Brian's horror, a Chippendale’s show to his amusement and the rest of the time they planned to shop at every tacky clothing store they could possibly find on the strip.

Brian wasn't interested in seeing or doing any of it, so he walked along the Vegas strip alone, enjoying its “attractions” by himself. He had no intention or desire to change his single status at this time, if ever, because he still absolutely believed that he wasn't meant to be a part of a couple. However, his attitude towards relationships in general had changed slightly since Vic's funeral and even more so since his bout with cancer. Looking at his chosen family, all paired off, happy and thriving made him realize that his parents' toxic marriage was far from the norm and that a lot of people, in fact the majority of those he knew personally, were happy to have someone by their side, especially in times of grief or trouble, or happiness, and especially sickness. When Brian looked at his family through the prism of his illness, he realized that he was sincerely thankful to luck, or good fortune, or Ben's karma or Justin's God that each of them had a partner who would be there for them, if they had to go through something like it also. He realized that Jennifer Taylor was right – no one should go through something like cancer alone and he was thankful to whatever force there was in the universe that had sent her to him.

Brian tried not to think about his cancer too often, but when he did he often thought of Jennifer Taylor and her invaluable help. Unfortunately, thoughts of Mother Taylor inevitably led to thoughts of her son. Being away from home, especially just a couple of days from August 23rd, he couldn't help but think of Justin and all the times and places he's met his blond in the past. No matter how hard he tried to think of something else, his mind wouldn't let go of those memories and despite himself he yearned for the togetherness of those stolen days and hours with Sunshine. Brian “no apologies, no regrets” Kinney finally admitted to himself that even though he didn't want to have an actual relationship, he nevertheless bitterly regretted being robbed of his rendezvous with Justin in Costa Rica and wished he'd contacted him to at least apologize. While watching his friends, happily cavorting around Vegas and being disgustingly lovey-dovey with each other, Brian fleetingly thought of getting a hold of Jennifer Taylor to find out where Justin was and to meet him on their day, somewhere, anywhere. But that idea suddenly frightened him and he dismissed it as quickly as it entered his mind, deeming it ridiculous and “lesbionic” in the extreme and berating himself for even thinking of such phrases such as “his blond” and “their day.” Brian was beyond thankful that those expressions only appeared in his head and were never uttered out loud.

Resolute, Brian decided to prove to himself that he didn't need nor want Justin. He went to a gay club off the strip he read about online, got a few shots of Beam, a blow job in the bathroom and took a hot, young, black-haired muscled beauty with a decent ass to his hotel. He enjoyed a fast and brutal fuck, a leisurely cigarette and another round in the shower, making his trick of the night weep with gratitude. He contemplated a third round, but found himself uninterested, so he sent him home and went to sleep. The next night he repeated the process at the same gay club with a different hot, young, muscled beauty, but this one had light brown hair and a superior ass. A couple of hours and two rounds of satisfying sex later, the trick went home and Brian went to bed, but sleep eluded him for hours.

He wondered why two fucks with those tricks were enough, while with Justin he felt like he could go on fucking him forever. He wondered why after a round in the shower, he was more concerned with quickly rinsing himself off and getting out of the shower immediately, than enjoying the steam and the warm water as he had done with Justin on several occasions. He wondered why he had no desire to wash their hair or body, while he took particular pleasure in cleansing every inch of Justin's skin and shampooing his hair until it shone and squeaked clean when rinsed.

He wondered why he couldn't remember kissing them, though he knew he did because he so enjoyed kissing during sex, while he could instantly recall the different kisses he shared with Justin (at some point he apparently differentiated, classified, named an ranked them in his mind, though he'd be hard pressed to pinpoint when he did such a grossly sentimental thing). He wondered why he couldn't remember their face mid-orgasm, while he could describe Justin's expressions in minute details when he came during each and every time they fucked face-to-face. Then Brian remembered that he didn't fuck them face-to-face, so he wouldn't be able to remember their expressions either. About a second later, Brian suddenly realized that he couldn't remember the last time he fucked a random trick face-to-face – the only one he could remember was the guy he did on his dining room table while imagining he was fucking Justin.  _But that was before Paris, wasn't it? Surely it hasn't been that long, has it,_  he thought.

He wondered why after fucking a trick, any trick, all he would remember the next day is the size of their cock and whether they fit into the excellent, very good, good, fair or poor category, like some lame telemarketing survey; while almost two years after he fucked Justin for the last time he remembered with amazing clarity every touch, every sigh, moan and scream, every smell, every taste, every blush and bead of sweat, besides Justin's beautiful cock, amazing ass and incredible body. He wondered why all his senses seemed to be engaged and heightened when he was with Justin, even when under the influence of alcohol and drugs, as in the case of their first time together, while that was very rarely true when he was with anyone else. He wondered why he had no desire whatsoever to have those two tricks, or any others for that matter, sleep in his bed, while with Justin he couldn't imagine having separate beds while spending time together. And that was another thing – spending time together – those words in conjunction with any trick in his entire life had no meaning, because he had never spent any time with them outside of the physical act of sex and had no desire to do so. With Justin, however, those words meant a great deal, they were a universe unto themselves and Brian realized that he missed being a part of that world.

 _Why? What the fuck does all of this shit mean?_  Brian thought, but couldn't decipher the meaning of his jumbled thoughts and emotions. He didn't want to admit that these thoughts scared him, made him anxious, so he didn't and he pushed the fear aside.

 _Maybe I just miss him. Sunshine...Justin's unique...I must miss him._ He settled on that meager explanation.  _That's irrelevant anyway, he isn't for me. He is boyfriend/husband/relationship material. I don't want a relationship. I haven't seen him in almost two years, he's probably with someone by now, just as he should be,_ Brian thought.

~*~*~*~

Brian and the gang returned to Pittsburgh late Sunday night. On Monday morning a potential client, a relatively new cosmetics company, Black Pearl Cosmetics, contacted Brian and requested a meeting at their offices in New York City the next day. They were originally going to go with a local ad agency, but they've heard enough good things about Kinnetik to at least take a meeting and consider Brian's firm. Brian asked a few questions, found out that they were about to launch a new line of body care products and introduce a hair care system, which was the reason for them seeking new representation. It seemed their former ad agency did a great job of introducing the new company and their anti-aging beauty line into the market four years ago, but since then their market share has stagnated and sales didn't improve much even when they launched a line of acne-fighting products two years before.

Brian and Cynthia spent the rest of the day, researching the firm, brainstorming ideas for a campaign and preparing a pitch. This meeting technically wasn't supposed to be a pitch, but a meet-and-greet between the owner's of two companies. Brian, however, was not going to waste a perfect opportunity. Working under pressure and tight deadlines was his forte, and even with the incredibly short notice he was able to come up with a kick-ass prelimenary proposal that he hoped would tip the scales in Kinnetik's favor and get him his first New York based client. Kinnetik had three international clients that had small satellite offices in New York City and one West Coast client that had an office there. It was a start, but nowhere near enough to warrant opening a second branch of Kinnetik in New York. Brian was hoping that if he got this account and was successful with this campaign, it would lead to other New York based clients. His goal was to open a second branch of Kinnetik in Manhattan when the number of clients with either headquarters or branch offices in New York City reached ten. To Brian, this meeting was crucial, since it's success would get him half way to his goal.

On Tuesday morning, Brian took a 6 am flight to New York City and by 9 o'clock he was at the meeting. An quick “meet-and-greet” stretched into two hours when Brian wowed the CEO and the VP of Marketing with his presentation. A short fifteen minute coffee break later, which was just an excuse for the CEO and the VP to have a powwow, Brian was back in the conference room shaking hands with his new clients. They scheduled a mid-morning meeting the next day in order to negotiate and sign the contracts that Brian instructed his legal department to prepare ASAP and send FedEx Priority Overnight to his hotel. Brian took his new clients to lunch in a nearby restaurant to celebrate the deal.

The rest of the afternoon Brian spent visiting branch offices of this international clients to make sure their needs were being met. At six o'clock, tired and hungry, but completely satisfied with the days work, Brian was walking down Mulberry street in Little Italy towards his favorite restaurant, Pazzo's on Grand, which in his book made the best Neapolitan style pizza this side of the Atlantic. Every time he was in New York he made a point to have his first dinner there and didn't even care if he happened to eat carbs past 7 pm when enjoying a piping hot, paper thin, gooey slices of _Quattro Formmagio e Funghi_ at Pazzo's. One of the best things about the place, besides the pizza, was that it was BYOB – bring your own bottle. The restaurant had a nice, but very limited, selection of beer and wine and if they didn't have something a customer wanted, that customer could bring their own choice of wine or beer that Pazzo's would gladly allow to be consumed for a minimal corking fee. Brian usually brought a bottle of something with him, but tonight he was more than happy to have a glass of the house red.

Brian was leisurely walking along, anticipating the first perfect bite of pizza; unwinding from the long day by listening to the music and bits of conversation spilling out of restaurants, stores and apartments that he passed by; enjoying a bit of people watching and playing the ever popular game of “spot a tourist” in his mind. He turned onto Grand street, walked a few feet and was about to walk into Pazzo's when he heard someone laugh and that sound made him freeze on the spot and then swiftly look around for its source. He spotted him a few seconds later – that same shiny, straw colored hair, the slender physique, the beautifully tapered back, the amazing bubble butt and great legs. Surprisingly, even strangely, it looked like Justin was wearing black suit trousers and a dress shirt in sky blue without a jacket, instead of his customary cargo pants and a t-shirt. Even more strangely, his back was crisscrossed with some kind of brace in dark gray that stood out against the light color of his shirt. For a second, Brian thought that he was mistaken, just like at Babylon all those months ago, that it wasn't Justin standing with his back towards him, talking to another be-suited young professional, but his doppelganger. But then the blond laughed again and Brian knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was indeed Justin. Brian suddenly realized that he would recognize that sound anywhere, anytime.

Brian was about to approach Justin, when his companion reached out and ruffled Justin's hair, making him laugh again and the sight unexpectedly and painfully pierced Brian's heart.

 _He's met someone then, just as I suspected he would,_  Brian thought.

He decided not to intervene and decisively walked into Pazzo's. A minute later, just as decisively, he walked out, deciding that he wouldn't walk away without at least saying hello to Justin. After all, it was August 23rd,  _their_  day and nothing, and no one, including himself, would stop him from seeing  _his_  Sunshine again up close and personal. He briskly walked towards Justin and his companion, doing his best to hide the scowl and schooling his features into a semblance of a sincere smile. When he was almost upon them, he said in as normal a voice as he could muster, “Well, I'll be damned, Sunshine! What are you doing in the Big Apple?”

At his words Justin froze, shocked, then slowly turned around and then it was Brian's turn to be shocked – for what he thought was some kind of a brace turned out to be a baby carrier that people sometimes wore on their chest, instead of carting their kids around in a stroller. Inside the backpack-looking thing was a baby boy, barely six months old, with silky looking hair that was so blond it was almost white and enormous bright blue eyes that stared at him owlishly.

“Brian! I didn't think I'd ever see you again. What are you doing here?” Justin asked, as his signature, sunshine smile transformed his face from shocked to exultant.

Brian, who was never at a loss for words, couldn't utter a sound for the first time in his life. The only thing he could do is stare at at this amazing vision of father and son in front of him, the same thoughts going round and round in his mind.

_He's with someone and he has a kid. Oh my fucking God, Justin has a kid and HE. IS. BEAUTIFUL. Whatever the fuck it was between us, it's over...it's fucking over!_

Justin was looking at Brian who was standing there, staring at him, his eyes wide open and his mouth opening and closing without a sound, like a fish that's been tossed out of water.

“Brian?” Justin asked again, he couldn't understand why Brian was acting so strangely. Suddenly, Brian forcefully cleared his throat, which sounded like a harsh, aborted moan.

“Wow, Sunshine, you work fast. I guess congratulations are in order,” he said hoarsely, feeling sick to his stomach, looking from Justin to the guy standing next to him, then towards the baby and back at Justin again. At that, Justin was even more puzzled.

“What the fuck are you talking about Brian?”

“That!” Brian said tersely, nodding towards the baby and doing his best not to shout and scare the kid. “That, which is staring at me with  _your_  eyes and blowing bubbles in my face. And that!” He couldn't help but shout this time and nodded in the direction of the guy standing next to them, observing the exchange with growing curiosity. “Aren't you going to introduce me?” Brian demanded, lowering his voice again with effort.

Justin suddenly realized what Brian was talking about and burst out laughing. He turned to his companion and said in between uncontrollable giggles,

“He thinks Niki's mine, or rather  _ours_! That's hilarious!” Then he turned towards Brian and desperately trying to control himself, and stop the laughter, attempted to explain. “Bri-ian... _ha-ha-ha..._ this is Niki... _ha-ha-ha..._ that's Nikitafor short. He's... _ha-ha-ha..._ Kirill and Rita's son _,_ not mine... _ha-ha_...I'd have to be in a serious, monogamous... _ha-ha..._ long-term relationship before I even consider having a kid of my own.”

He finally seemed to have stopped laughing like a loon and continued his explanation somewhat calmly, but with watering eyes and red-faced from mirth.

“And my attitude towards such relationships is very similar to yours nowadays, Brian – while they work for some people, they are not for people like you, and I. By the way, this is Gabriel Stone, Daphne's boyfriend, not mine.”

“Brian Kinney,” Brian said reluctantly, shook the offered hand and turned back towards Justin. “Kirill and Rita? They are here?”

“Yes, Daphne and the happy couple, who are married to each other and are definitely the parents of this little angel here, are inside shopping,” Justin nodded in the direction of an Italian market beside which they were all standing. “I'm just giving Rita a bit of a break from carting this bundle of joy all day.”

“Shouldn't her husband be doing that?” Brian asked frowning. Justin chuckled.

“He does, believe me, but he wiped out on his bike about a week ago and hurt his back a little. So, I'm stepping up to help.”

Baby Niki suddenly stretched out his pudgy hand, imperiously pointed a finger towards Brian and shrieked “Da!” at the top of his lungs, prompting all three adults to laugh.

“No, Niki, he's not your Da,” Justin said, kissing the infant on his forehead. “Your 'da,' or daddy, or papa, or however you are going to end up calling him, is in there buying out the store. This is Brian. Bri-i-ian. Can you say Brian, Niki? Of course not, maybe in six months or so, huh?” Niki just looked at Justin, listening to his soothing voice, blew some more bubbles, then pointing at Justin's nose shrieked again “Da!" Justin laughed and kissed the pudgy little fingers.

“No, Niki. I'm not your Da either. I'm uncle Justin. Juuus-tin! God, I can't wait until he starts to talk!” He exclaimed looking at Brian again, smiling widely.

Then, the door to the market opened and Kirill's tall form appeared outside, keeping the door open for Rita and Daphne. In contradiction of Justin's joke, no one “bought out” the store – Kirill carried a medium-sized plastic bag moderately filled with goodies to take home, while Daphne carried a couple of bottles of wine ensconced in brown paper bags. When the trio noticed Brian they hesitated at first, looking at both Justin and Brian to gauge their reaction to each other, but seeing as there were no negative vibes or anger between the two, they greeted Brian warmly and invited him to join them for dinner – it seemed they were on their way to Pazzo's as well, they just stopped at the store next door for a couple of bottles of wine.

~*~*~*~

The dinner was a lively affair with conversation going non-stop between all six people. Kirill and Rita desperately wanted to find out why Brian never made it to Costa Rica, which made Justin so unhappy, but unbeknownst to Brian, Justin ordered them not to bring up that subject at all. They asked him a few generic questions and then let him lead the conversation for a while. Brian congratulated them on the marriage, on the baby and asked them how they came to be in the US.

Then Daphne finally had the opportunity to get to know Brian and asked him what seemed like hundreds of questions, which he answered good-naturedly to her boyfriend's growing confusion, annoyance and obvious jealousy. Brian perversely enjoyed it for about five minutes, since he blamed Gabriel for his own irrational and completely unwarranted spark of jealous rage outside the restaurant. He finally took pity on Gabriel and diffused his black mood by telling him that he was 100% gay and while he found Daphne delightful, he was in no way interested in her. After that Gabriel happily joined in the conversation and asked Brian a number of questions himself, which mostly had to do with business. Brian asked Daphne about her studies and Gabriel about his work, which he found out was as an entry-level editor for a small, relatively new publishing house. He politely inquired about how they met, considering the fact that their fields of study were so disparate and was amused to find out that they met in line to the bathroom at a local bar when the ladies restroom was closed for renovation and all the customers had to share the mensroom.

“Yeah, if Daph and I make a real go of it and get married it'll be some story to tell our kids, huh? Yeah, I met your mom in line to the bathroom in a bar,” Gabriel said, laughing.

“Married? How long have you two been dating?” Brian was shocked – these were 22-year-old kids talking about marriage and children.

“It'll be a year in October,” Daphne answered and then seeing Brian's expression she laughed and explained. “Don't worry Brian, Gabe and I aren't seriously talking about marriage yet. I still have a year of pre-med left and then medical school. I don't plan on getting married until I am at least 30 and kids are even further down the line, so please don't have a heart attack, I beg you!” She joked.

“Hey, there are married people with kids, or kid, at the table here!” Kirill exclaimed, pretending to be deeply hurt. “Don't be upset, _dorogaya_." He turned towards a smiling Rita, pretending to soothe non-existent ruffled feathers, “Just think of us as rebels, rebels without a cause, bravely forging into the unknown future!” He said theatrically.

“Yeah, rebels without a clue, is more like it,” Justin quipped.

“Don't you mock our alternative lifestyle!” Kirill said loftily.

“Alternative lifestyle? You?” Justin laughed.

“Hey, getting married young and having kids in your early twenties isn't the posh, popular thing to do nowadays. Now it's all about career, money, partying, dating lots of people and having lots of sex, like you lot,” he said gesturing towards everyone at the table. “Therefore, Rita and I belong to a group of young, happily married parents - an alternative lifestyle if I've ever seen one,” he joked.

Brian observed the continued banter with mixed feelings; he was amused, then disturbed, then scared, then happy and then rather uncomfortable. He was amused with the humorous conversation that continued around him, full of jokes, fake insults and laughter. Looking at Kirill and Rita, who obviously got married well after Niki was conceived, brought forth disturbing memories of his parents who got married because of an unwanted pregnancy and were deeply unhappy people for the duration of their marriage and for the rest of their lives. Brian realized that he liked these kids, he liked them when he first met them in Ibiza and he liked them now a few years later. The thought of them turning out like his parents and making life hell for little Niki, who looked disturbingly like Justin, scared him to the bone. But then he realized how utterly happy they appeared to be and even though happiness can be easily faked in front of people, the look of genuine love and adoration that they sent to each other couldn't possibly be false and that filled him with gladness. He looked at Justin, sitting near him at the corner of the table and an unexpected and wholly foreign feeling of envy assaulted him – he suddenly wished that Justin would look at him that way at least once. That thought immediately made him uncomfortable and he desperately tried to change his train of thought.

“Are they always like this?” he asked Daphne, nodding in the direction of Justin, who was feeding Niki baby food from a jar, and Kirill who continued to make fun of each other mercilessly.

“Oh, yeah, all the time,” she confirmed, rolling her eyes. “They are like brothers from another mother, the way they tease each other. I'm glad Kirill and Rita are here, and Niki as well. Jus and I see a lot more of each other now that we are in the same city, but I am so busy with school and well, Gabe, it's still not as often as we'd like. So, the three of them keep Justin from being lonely and out of trouble.”

“Hey, Daph, stop making me sound like a pathetic loser,” Justin groused. It appeared he was paying attention to their conversation, while simultaneously taking bites of his pizza, feeding Nikita and trading insults with Kirill. “I am not lonely – I have an exciting job, I'm constantly painting, slowly building my art career and I do have friends outside of you idiots.”

“Who? Name one!” She demanded.

“Uhm...Dave...uhm...Dave!”

“Dave, whose last name you can't even remember? The Dave that works at the gallery and to whom you've spoken all of twice. That Dave?”

“OK, fine. Neil Weston.”

“Neil Weston. Really. The same Neil Weston from accounting with whom you went out twice and whom you didn't even bother to fuck because he was so boring he nearly put you to sleep? That Neil Weston?”

“OK, he was not all that great on a date, I admit, but he did turn out to be a decent work-friend. Oh, and you forgot about Thomas Birch, Richard Pine, Harold Palm...”

“Justin, sweetie,” Daphne interrupted, “I'm not talking about decent work-friends, vague gallery acquaintances and your various short-term boyfriends that never last more than a month...”

“Wait a minute,” Brian interrupted, laughing, “you actually dated a Tom, a Dick and a Harry?” Everyone stopped talking and looked at Brian with confusion in their faces. A few seconds later when it sank in, everyone burst out laughing, while Justin blushed a deep crimson to the root in embarrassment.

“Oh, my God! I never realized,” Daphne said in between giggles.

“And did you notice that all their last names have to do with...” Gabriel continued, but was interrupted by Kirill, Rita and Brian's shout of “Wood!”

At that point, even Justin could see the humor in the situation and laughed along with his friends.

“You aren't going to believe Richard's middle name,” Justin said when the laughter subsided. Everyone looked at him curiously and he answered, “Woodrow... it was a family name.”

For a second no one reacted. Then Brian said, “Dick. Wood. Pine,” prompting another round of raucous laughter.

~*~*~*~

Two hours later the pizza was gone, as was the wine, and they all made their way out of the restaurant. Daphne and Gabriel said good night and got ready to leave. Daphne gave Brian a hug and then surprised him even further by going up on her tip-toe to give him a kiss on the cheek. His surprise quickly turned to understanding when she quickly whispered a stern warning,

“Don't you hurt him again, Brian Kinney!” When he imperceptibly to anyone else shook his head 'no,' she smiled and kissed his cheek again. After that Daphne and Gabe quickly departed.

Kirill and Rita were debating between taking the subway or a cab from Little Italy all the way home in the Upper East Side. Then little Nikita yawned widely and started to rub his eyes with cute little fists, immediately reducing his parents into an emotional puddle of goo. Two minutes later they were hailing a cab to take their tired kid home as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Within minutes Brian and Justin were alone standing in front of Pazzo's, enveloped in the fragrant scent of baking pizza and amid a murmur of conversation coming out of the restaurant. It seemed that everyone automatically assumed that Justin would stay behind, which slightly surprised Brian. Since it's exactly what he hoped would happen, he was quietly pleased.

“Mind if we walk, Sunshine?” Brian asked.

“Where?”

“I'm at the Waldorf Astoria,” Brian said simply.

“That's quite a walk,” Justin said, then shrugged. “Sure, I don't mind. We can take Bowery to 4th, then to Park.” 

“Sounds good,” Brian agreed and they started walking in silence, suddenly awkward with each other.

Justin decided to stop this nonsense and not waste precious time on awkwardness, so he screwed up his courage and said.

“I am glad you are OK, Brian. You are, aren't you?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Brian asked cautiously. He was pretty certain what Justin was asking, but the topic of cancer was the last thing he wanted to discuss.

“I know you had cancer,” Justin said quietly.

“How?”

“My mother.” He told Brian of being in Pittsburgh for Mother's Day, about seeing Brian's bouquet and the conversation that followed. “I called Kinnetik on Monday, but you were out of town on business, so I left a message...”

“What?” Brian interrupted, shocked. “With whom?”

“Vicky, I think.”

“That bitch!” Brian exploded with a string of curses. “She was with us for less than a month, but she screwed up so much that it took twice as long for us to recover and clean up the many messes she left behind. Mother's day you say...I came back on Thursday morning that week, she was gone the same day. I'm not surprised I never got the message.”

“Would you have called me back if you did?” Justin asked, hoping that Brian would say yes. Brian was silent for a few minutes, thinking about the question.

“Truthfully, Justin, I am not sure if I would have, but...stranger things have happened, so who knows. Now, looking back, I hope that I would have called you back, at least to explain why I wasn't at the airport in San Jose on August 23rd.”

“It's OK, I know, you were having surgery. What kind of cancer was it? Mom never said.”

“Testicular.”

“Fuck!”

“Sadly, I couldn't for a couple of months.” Brian smirked.

“Shit, Brian, don't joke,” Justin suddenly stopped walking, whirled around until he was standing right in front of Brian. His hands clutched the lapel of Brian's jacket for a second, while his worried sky-blue eyes were roaming around his face and body, as if making sure that he was whole. “You are OK now, right? You are healthy, right?” he asked anxiously, while his hands started to roam around his face and body following the trajectory of his eyes. Brian let it happen, inwardly enjoying the attention, until Justin attempted to examine his crotch area in full view of the public.

“Stop pawing me, you silly twink! We aren't exactly in the backroom of Babylon,” Brian laughed, capturing Justin's hands in his and bringing them up to his chest. “I'm fine, Justin. I have one real ball and one plastic, but I just had my one year physical and I've been pronounced 100% cancer free and healthy as a horse. My doctor is confident that despite my former excesses with drugs, alcohol and loose men, I will live to fuck another day for years to come.”

“And the impotence?”

“Temporary. I was fine about a month after I finished radiation.”

“Thank God you are OK, Brian. I am so glad my mom was there to help you. By the way, how weird is that?”

“Very weird. I thought I was in the Twilight Zone when I first realized she was your mother, who for a woman, is pretty fucking amazing! You are lucky to have her, Justin.”

“I know.” Justin smiled again, his worry gone. “Shall we?” he nodded towards the street, urging them to continue walking. Brian nodded and they went on, not realizing that he still held Justin's right hand in his left. Justin, of course, noticed and reveled in the sensation, but decided not to call attention to the fact that they were walking the streets of New York hand-in-hand.

After that Brian didn't want to talk about anything to do with cancer. He deliberately turned the conversation towards Justin and his life.

“So, how are you, Sunshine? How do you like New York?”

“I love it, actually. I'm not sure if I want to live here permanently, but for now it's perfect. And, please, Brain, don't listen to Daph – my life isn't as pathetic as she made it sound. I actually have a lot going on.”

Brian chuckled, “I'm pretty sure she was just kidding. Don't worry, I would never think of you or your life as pathetic, though your choice of dates was comedy gold. If anything confirms that you like dick, it's that.”

“Hey, no knocking my dates!” Justin said, laughing. “They were actually decent guys. We had fun, things just ran their course.”

“Quickly, from what I hear. Haven't found anyone worth making the extra effort?” Brian quoted their long ago conversation.

“Ha! Funny you should mention that. I tried that once, but he turned out to be a bit of a psycho, so after that I decided that making the extra effort wasn't worth the...well...effort. So, since then I've just been having fun when I have time.”

When Brian asked him to elaborate, Justin told him about Ethan and the disaster in the end. Then it was Brian's turn to stop in his tracks and start examining Justin from top to bottom. He was seething with anger to the point where his hands slightly shook as he ran them all over Justin's body.

“I want to rip that fucker limb from limb! I can't believe he hit you!” Brian shouted.

“Brian, it was over a year ago and he barely landed a punch. That fairy hits like a girl. Hell, Daphne can land a better blow, believe me. I'm fine, Brian, I threw the bitch out and filed a police report, just in case he wanted to destroy another one of my paintings. Every time he saw me after that he crossed the street in fear. It was pretty pathetic.”

Brian stopped his “examination” abruptly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Justin answered quietly and they started walking again, but no longer holding hands.

“Good! I can't believe you wanted to live with that guy, Justin!” Brain groused, “You weren't in love with him or anything, were you?” he couldn't help asking, as an unfamiliar, thoroughly uncomfortable, oily feeling of jealousy coiled in the pit of his stomach.

“God, no! He told me he loved me, which I sort of believed until that incident happened, but then I realized that he couldn't possibly have loved me. He wouldn't have hit me or destroyed something as important to me as my work, if he did. If he felt anything for me it was possessiveness or some sort of obsession.”

“So, why were you with him then?” Brian asked in confusion, the oily feeling in his stomach lessened somewhat.

“I liked him. We had a lot in common interest-wise. We had fun together. He was good in bed. It felt nice when he told me he loved me, so I had hoped that my feelings for him would grow with time and we could build a life together.”

“But you were still planning on meeting me in Costa Rica? I don't...”

“Brian,” Justin stopped walking again and forced Brian to turn towards him.  _Fuck this, I'm done playing around! I'm going to tell the truth,_ he thought and looking Brian straight in the eyes he said, “Brian, no one, absolutely no one would prevent me from meeting you anywhere, anytime, especially not on  _our fucking day!_  You don't believe in love or relationships and that's fine, if that's what you believe and if that's how you feel. Love is... Love is a gift, Brian. That gift can certainly be refused, or rejected, or returned, it doesn't negate the fact that it exists for those who believe in its existence. I do and I've loved you since the first night we met. Whether you believe me or not, I am in love with you...” He was suddenly interrupted by a pair of strong, warm lips that were devouring his hungrily in a bruising kiss that made him lightheaded and sent all his blood surging straight to his cock.

“God, I want you so fucking much,” Brian whispered harshly and them swooped in for another scorching kiss, completely disregarding the fact that they were in the middle of a fairly crowded street.

“Then why the fuck are we walking?” Justin asked as soon as his lips were free.

“Fuck if I know,” Brian said, slightly dazed. A second later, he stepped to the curb, raised his hand and shouted, “Taxi!”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dorogaya (Russian) - dear


	8. Tuesday, August 23rd, 2005

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Scmoop. Yep, pretty much. Sorry, not sorry. :)

**Part Two**

In his haste to get into the cab, Justin stepped off the curb wrong and would have fallen had Brian not grabbed his arm and held him steady. Justin let out a self-deprecating laugh and with a quiet “thanks” slid inside the taxi.

“Waldorf Astoria!” Brian barked at the cabbie as soon as he was inside. The cabbie, somewhat startled by Brian's tone, immediately hit the gas pedal and the cab careened into traffic, slamming the boys backward against the seats.

“Jesus!” Brian muttered, as Justin leaned into his side and hid his face against Brian's shoulder desperately trying to stifle his laughter. Brian's arm automatically went around the blond pressing him into his body.

“You gotta love New York cabs,” Justin whispered when he got himself a bit under control, “they get you from point A to point B in a fucking hurry.”

“No shit!” Brian chuckled, looking into Justin's laughing, brilliant blue eyes.

Suddenly, Brian felt like he was drowning in all that blue. All sound disappeared, the mirth was gone and he had difficulty breathing. His whole body felt like it was deprived of air and was straining towards its source. He could have asked the cabbie to turn up the air conditioning, if he was aware of the man's existence; or he could have opened the window and he would have gotten a face full of the hot August breeze from the speeding cab, if he remembered the fact that he was in one to begin with. Brian did neither. His brain seemed to have shut off when he was drowning in all that blue and his body led by an ancient instinct leaned ever closer towards Justin. Brian's lips found Justin's eager mouth and his every cell sighed with relief as Justin's sweet breath gave the air for which his body was screaming.

The rest of the cab ride was spent in absolute bliss as the lovers continued to kiss with their eyes closed, wrapped around each other in the protective bubble of their own making, despite the noise of the traffic, the not so gentle swaying of the cab, the unidentifiable foreign music wailing out of the radio and the obnoxious  _Taxi Magic_  ads squawking out of the passenger “entertainment” unit.

~*~*~*~

In no time at all the boys were at the hotel and inside Brian's luxury suite. They rushed through the opulent sitting room kissing, laughing, touching as they stumbled into the furniture that was suddenly in their way to the bedroom. They stopped abruptly in the bedroom doorway, their hands disconnecting as Justin took a few steps back; the laughter was suddenly gone, replaced by the previous intensity and hunger.

The unbearable need for air that only Justin's lips could provide returned with a vengeance. Brian stepped across the threshold abruptly, sauntered up to Justin until they were flush together and walked him backwards towards the king-sized bed. He looked down into those mesmerizing blue eyes and then grabbed Justin, lifting him off his feet. One arm went around the waist, the other around the shoulders in a possessive way that stole Justin's breath and all thought.

“I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you all night long,” Brian growled into Justin's ear, driving him insane with lust and need. “I want to fuck you so slow and so long that you forget your name, and then so hard and so fast that you see stars,” he finished in a whisper and bit Justin's earlobe.

“Oh God, yessss!” Justin hissed. Then, at the end of his tether, he fisted his hand in Brian's hair and none-too-gently yanked his head back so that he could see Brian’s eyes which were now a deep forest green in passion. “Fuck me,” he demanded.

Brian complied and they tumbled into bed, their lips fused together and hands tearing at each other’s clothing.

~*~*~*~

Sometime later, after a couple of energetic rounds of very satisfying sex, they were gently coming down from the high of an orgasm, breathing as one, as the sweat cooled on their skin. Justin was sprawled on top of Brian's body, not caring that the come would soon glue them together.

“So, did you?” Brian asked, as soon as he could speak normally again.

“Mmmm... Did I what?” Justin asked, raising his head from the comfy spot on Brian's shoulder.

“Forget your name and see stars?”

“Stars? Fuck, Brian, I saw the whole damn universe!”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Brian chuckled.

“I am not entirely sure, but that last orgasm made me feel like I was hurtling through time and space... like the Tardis, or warp speed. Like I wasn't made of matter, but of pure energy, you know?”

“I had no idea I was fucking a science fiction geek.” Brian laughed.

“Hey!” Justin exclaimed indignantly, “I'm trying to give you a compliment here and you are laughing at me. Besides, it's not me who's a sci-fi geek, it’s Kirill.”

“Yeah, yeah, likely story!”

“Laugh it up, fuzzball,” Justin said ominously, sitting up and making Brian groan at the sudden shift in weight. “I'll give you something to laugh about!” Justin said and attempted to tickle his lover.

Brian was having none of it and in a swift and powerful move he sat up, grabbed Justin by the biceps, and flipped them over reversing their positions. The lightning fast move momentarily disoriented Justin and rendered him speechless, until he became the recipient of merciless tickles.

“OK, OK, I give up!” Justin gasped after all of 15 seconds of the tickle assault.

“Admit that you are a geek and I'll stop,” Brian demanded.

“I'm a geek! I'm a geek!” Justin laughed.

“Good.” Brian stopped tickling Justin and kissed him. “Did you really see the whole universe?” He asked, smirking.

“Yeah... Yeah, I really did,” Justin answered, then reached up and gently combed his hands through Brian's auburn locks.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“You are welcome.”

“And your name?”

“Well, those two rounds were pretty fast and intense, almost brutal, you know? I didn't have time to forget my name. You did say  _something_  about fucking me long and slow,” Justin said, a wicked smile appearing on his face.

“Well, that can certainly be arranged,” Brain said, reached for another condom and a packet of lube, and proceeded to make languid, deliciously slow love to his blond.

~*~*~*~

What seemed like an eternity later they lay spooned together, sighing contentedly.

“So, did I succeed?” Brian asked, tongue in cheek.

“Yeah… what's your name again?”

“You were supposed to forget  _your_  name, you twat!” Brian pretended to be deeply offended.

Justin turned around to face Brian, looked at his smirking face and kissed him hard on the mouth.

“You can make me forget just about anything and anyone, including myself, when you are in me, Mr. Kinney.”

Brian couldn’t even describe the feelings those words elicited within him. All he knew was that they made him feel inexplicably good, though a little anxious. He so wanted to respond in kind; to tell Justin  _‘I can pretty much say the same Mr. Taylor’_ , hence the anxiety. But the words didn’t make it past the lump that appeared in his throat; so he forced them back, cleared his throat and did his best to convey what he couldn’t say out loud through another kiss.

They made out for a few minutes; then lay side-by-side watching each other in the quiet. A few minutes later, Brian began to feel a bit uncomfortable again under Justin's scrutiny and was desperately searching for some topic that would change the overly sentimental mood, but not entirely ruin the atmosphere.

Then he realized that he didn't have to search for a subject, because everything about Justin interested him – his last semester at school, his work, his art, his friends, his apartment, his life in New York, his travels, the books he has read lately, the movies he has seen, whether he has been to a Broadway musical or seen a play, whether he missed him in Costa Rica. Brian suddenly realized that he has never felt that way about anyone before and that as confusing, and bewildering as that feeling was, it wasn't nearly as frightening as he expected it to be. In the past, even just three years ago, such thoughts would have gotten him out of this bed, into his tightest clothing, into a nearest club with a backroom and into a willing ass quicker than you can say “Brian fucking Kinney.”

At this very moment, however, as confused and anxious as he was, Brian felt no desire to flee and avail himself of his usual pain management crutches when too much emotion threatened his protective walls. Instead, he shifted his body slightly, lay on his back and lazily reached for a cigarette.

“Want one?” he offered one to Justin, as he lit up.

“No, thanks. I never smoked much, but I quit completely a while back – too expensive a habit, especially in New York. I'm glad I quit, especially after moving in with Kirill and Rita. It wouldn't have been good to have a smoker around Niki.”

“I thought Kirill smoked too. At least he did in Ibiza.”

“He quit after Rita got pregnant; didn’t want second-hand smoke near the baby. He loves Rita, but he'll do just about anything for that kid,” Justin said with a smile. Then he shook his head and chuckled, “Hell, any of us would. We - Daph and Gabe included - are all completely smitten with Niki.”

“He's a lucky kid,” Brian agreed, thinking of Gus, who just like Niki was surrounded by people who loved him and who would never want for anything.

“Yes, he is. By the way, isn't this suite non-smoking?” Justin wondered.

“Probably, but who the fuck cares. I'll do my very best not to burn the place down and if I am fined, well... it's a small price to pay for having a much-needed post-coital smoke after fucking you into oblivion for the past – what, two, three hours?” Brian answered nonchalantly.

Justin couldn't help but laugh – it seemed a very Brian thing to say.

“Not quite into oblivion, as I am still conscious. My ass, however, is nearly there and needs a rest.”

“I hear there's a Jacuzzi in this suite. You are welcome to it,” Brian suggested.

“Fuck, yeah! You gonna join me?”

“I'm not really a bath kinda guy, but, why the hell not?”

“Great! Oooh, I hope they have that special bubble bath that works in Jacuzzi tubs,” Justin said dreamily as he practically floated off the bed and towards the bathroom.

“Hold it!” Brian's order froze Justin in mid-float. “Bubble. Bath?” 

“Yes, Brian, a bubble bath.” Justin sighed. “I realize that you are not a child or a woman; but, really, taking a bubble bath with me once won't threaten your masculinity, ruin your reputation or make you grow breasts. I promise. And as incentive, after I've relaxed a little bit in the warm, bubbly water we can play a game called 'hide the soap.' How does that sound?” he asked cheekily.

Brian bust out laughing. “Hide the soap, Sunshine? Really? Fine, knock yourself out with the bubbles, if you must. But if anyone ever hears of this I'll spank you so hard you won't sit for a week. Got it?”

“Promises, promises,” Justin sing-songed and turned in the direction of the bathroom again.

The en-suite bathroom was gorgeous and Justin spent the next 15 minutes setting it up just as he wanted, while Brian was busy ordering a bottle of Beam from room service. Justin filled the tub to the brim and in his enthusiasm dumped more Jacuzzi-safe bubble bath beads provided by the hotel than he intended. He brought a few things in from other rooms “to set the ambiance.”

When Brian walked in about 15 minutes later, he nearly dropped the tray that held a bottle of Beam, two crystal-cut glasses and a fruit and cheese platter that he ordered for Justin, for the bathroom was completely transformed and now resembled some sort of rainforest grotto. The rather harsh lights were off; instead, Justin brought in several small, decorative lamps and every flower arrangement from the bedroom and sitting room, artfully arranging it all on the counter, in the double sinks and on the floor. The soft glow of the lamps, shining between and sometimes through the various bouquets of flowers threw intimate shadows in strange patterns onto the walls and ceiling of the bathroom. The Jacuzzi was on; its gentle rumble provided soothing ambient noise and rolled the nearly foot-high fragrant bubbles around, threatening to spill them onto the floor. The steam rising out of the water intensified the heady scent of the flowers tenfold.

 “What’s all this?” Brian asked his eyebrow high on his forehead.

“Well, you did tell me to knock myself out.” Justin snickered.

“So, what you are telling me is that you did all this just to fuck with me?” Brian asked incredulously.

“But of course, Brian! Next time I offer you a bubble bath, just come along quietly and you won’t be subjected to unnecessary romantic trappings,” Justin said with a wicked grin.

The scene  _should_  have been sickeningly romantic and probably would have been if Justin had access to candles instead of lamps and thought to turn on some music. Instead, the atmosphere was calming and reminded Brian of an upscale spa that sold relaxation through the wonders of aromatherapy and “nature sounds”, which to him was just a bullshit marketing ploy, but one that didn’t actually turn his stomach.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” Justin said.

Brian thought for a second, poured each of them a snifter of Beam, placed the fruit and cheese tray within reach of the tub and then did as he was told.

~*~*~*~

Brian was supposed to return to Pittsburgh on a noon flight after the meeting with his new client, but he didn’t – the previous night and the brief time he spent with Justin in the morning plagued his mind, making it difficult to concentrate on his work. That was a definite first in Brian’s experience. Usually, when Brian switched to work-mode, everything and everyone else not related to Kinnetik business faded into the background. Apparently, that wasn’t going to be the case this time, for his morning “wake-up call” popped into his head right in the middle of a conversation with the client, making things extremely uncomfortable in the crotch.  

_Justin awoke at 5:30 and proceeded to tease Brian out of dreamland by giving him a spectacular blow job. When Brian slit his eyes open midway through and looked down his body a ray of light burst through the window enveloping Justin’s bobbing head in a golden halo, momentarily blinding him. He came within seconds and then his sleep-deprived, post-orgasm brain allowed him to utter something that made him feel stupid immediately after:_

_“For a moment there I thought I was being blown by an angel. You really shouldn’t let the sun do that to your hair.”_

_Justin was speechless for a few seconds, and then asked “Do what exactly?”_

_“You know… shine,” Brian answered lamely. “You had like a halo or something, it was almost blasphemous.”_

_“Don’t think I can control the sun, Brian. But now that I’ve committed holy blow job, I think I can die a happy man,” Justin snickered and dodged a pillow that Brian lobbed at this laughing face._

Brian was saved from embarrassment when his client’s phone rang and brought him back to the present. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only scene that he mentally replayed  (completely involuntarily, of course) throughout the morning: the leisurely fuck that followed the blow job, the frantic one in the shower, the kiss they shared before Justin ran out the door at 7 am in order to get home and change into fresh work clothes.

The thing that was beginning to concern Brian was that sex wasn’t the only thing that kept coming up in his mind over and over. He was on his way to the airport when his thoughts yet again returned to their conversations, which covered the last two years of their lives in almost minute detail with topics ranging from Justin’s adventures in Costa Rica, his work at SGN art department, to his art. Justin’s excitement over his first art show three months prior and an upcoming one at a gallery in the Village was infectious, and Brian couldn’t help but be excited for him. Brian felt immensely proud that both of the paintings that Justin displayed at his first show were sold and he assured Justin that his talent would guarantee the success of the upcoming opening where five of his paintings would be shown among the works of four other artists.

They talked in more detail about Brian’s bout with cancer; about him losing Vic Grassi, who to Brian was like a friend/uncle/father all rolled into one; about Kinnetik and its steady rise in the advertising field. Justin applauded Brian’s ambition to open a second branch of the firm in New York and to compete with the big boys like Justin’s company and their chief rival Kennedy & Collins. They talked about Gus, Brian’s effort to spend more time with him and of his sometimes volatile relationship with Gus’ mothers. When Justin asked about Brian missing his son’s birthday the last few years, Brian explained that he worked out a compromise with the girls where they spend Gus’s actual birthday in their little family unit and he came to the birthday party for friends and their extended family that the girls usually held either the weekend before or after.

Brian was surprised yet again at how much he had shared with Justin. Throughout his cab ride to LaGuardia he thought of and was amazed by how much of himself he had revealed, even though it has been the norm each time he saw Justin in the past. The strange thing was that before he met Justin there were exactly two people in the world who had temporary passes into his head, Mikey and Deb; those passes being marijuana and food. Brian couldn’t help but admit that as much as he cared for his surrogate mother and best friend he had never been comfortable with sharing his innermost thoughts, dreams and ambitions even with them without being completely baked on high-grade pot. The only other person Brian could think of with whom he had spoken somewhat freely was Jennifer Taylor, but he attributed that more to cancer and everything associated with its treatment. However, the fact that she was Justin’s mother didn’t escape his notice either.

It all led to Justin in the end, Brian realized. Justin was the only person with whom Brian talked almost without censoring himself, with whom he could relax into a conversation without the aid of massive amounts of drugs or alcohol, and with whom it actually felt good to share what he was capable of sharing. One night was nowhere near enough, he realized. Not enough talking, laughing, fucking… just being…

 _So why the fuck am I leaving? The contract’s signed. I have nothing important on my plate until Friday,_  he thought. The very next thing he did, before he could stop or talk himself out of it, he called the airline, re-scheduled his flight and told the cabbie to turn back towards the city.

~*~*~*~

For the millionth time that day Justin wished he had called in sick and it wasn’t just because of the extra hour he could’ve spent in bed with Brian. He was utterly useless all morning – his concentration was for shit; he kept spacing out in the middle of various projects, staring off into nothing and remembering the previous night and that morning. 

He kept looking at his address, phone number and email that he hastily scrawled on a bit of hotel stationery while Brian went to the bathroom. He planned on giving it to Brian before leaving. Justin wanted to convince him to at least keep in touch. But then Brian turned on the shower and called Justin to join him, where mindful of the dwindling time they had left they began to devour each other. Justin was kicking himself for stuffing that paper into his pants pocket before running towards the bathroom, because when they came out of the shower, Justin realized he was running late and in his haste all he could think about was kissing Brian one more time and not about his contact information. He wished he had just left the damn paper in Brian’s room for him to find. But then he thought that with his luck Brian wouldn’t notice and it would be thrown out by the maids together with yesterday’s garbage.

By one o’clock Justin admitted that he accomplished exactly two things at work that day: daydreaming and brooding. He walked into his boss’ office and asked for the rest of the day off, which he received with surprising ease. He walked back to his station to pick up his things when his desk phone rang.

“Justin Taylor.”

“Turns out I don’t have to be back in the Pitts until Friday morning, so I re-scheduled my flight to tomorrow night. Only problem is that there’s a convention of some sort going on and my room at the Waldorf has already been taken. So, I can’t decide between staying at the Plaza or at yours.”

“Fuck the Plaza, you are staying with me!”

~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later Justin rushed out of the front doors of the skyscraper that housed the ad agency where he worked and smacked straight into Brian, who decided to escape the August heat by waiting for Justin in the lobby.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“When’s your flight tomorrow?”

“Late, after 10 PM.”

“Perfect! I took a day off tomorrow, so you are spending it with me,” Justin said his face alight with his signature sunshine smile. Suddenly, a frown creased his forehead. “Listen, about staying with me…”

“I forgot that you don’t live alone. If Kirill and Rita mind, we’ll stay the night at the Plaza. It’s no big deal, Justin.”

“Oh, they won’t mind, trust me. It’s Niki - he’s old enough now to sleep through the night, but that’s not always the case. There are nights when he wakes up at 3 AM screaming bloody murder and sometimes it takes a while to calm him down. I just didn’t think when I offered.”

“I don’t mind. Really. I want to see where you live, Justin, and it’s not like I haven’t had to wake up in the middle of the night from a screaming baby. Granted, it was a rare occurrence, but I have been there with Gus once or twice. It’s fine.”

“OK, but you’ve been warned.”

“So, where to?”

“Do you remember that day we spent in Paris? The pseudo, or rather, non-date-date we had?”

“How could I forget, Sunshine?” Brian smirked, “That pseudo or non-date was the most successful date of my entire life.”

“Well, you paid for everything and even though I’ve been there before, I ended up following your lead. Now, it’s my turn. I haven’t been in New York long, but I do have a few favorite places I’d like to show you, if you trust me and let me pay.”

“Only on one condition – no street food, none.”

“Deal! First, we go to my place and change.”

Since this was Justin’s show, they took the subway to his apartment, which definitely surprised Brian with its spaciousness, its comfortable décor and its artwork.  The walls were covered with Justin and Kirill’s paintings and sketches, Rita’s photographs of Moscow, New York and Ibiza, and a number of good quality prints by their favorite abstract expressionists. Photos of Justin, the happy couple and their son, as well as their friends and family were in abundance and sprinkled about the place in interesting looking picture frames.

While the apartment wasn’t as immaculate and as free of clutter as his loft in Pittsburgh, Brian thought it was still surprisingly clean, neat and well-ordered, considering three college-age kids with a baby lived there. There were a few small pockets of clutter here and there, seen in a few of Niki’s toys around a play-pen set up in the living room, a few sketchpads lying here and there, and stacks upon stacks of books scattered throughout the apartment. Interestingly enough, none of this bothered Brian in the slightest. It felt like a home and not a fuck-pad like his loft, a show-place like Lindsey’s, a flea-market like Deb’s, a Zen garden like Mikey and the Professor’s, or a shrine to opera like Ted’s.

Brian examined the apartment, the roof-top deck and especially Justin’s room with great interest. His bedroom was the smallest in the apartment, but it was still large enough to fit in a queen-sized bed, a writing desk, a dresser, a bookshelf that was bursting at the seams with art supplies and a large easel set up by the windows. His artwork, of course, graced every available wall space. As much as Brian would have liked to take a closer look at all the pieces, Justin was raring to go out and Rita, who was home with Niki, insisted on making them a light lunch before they left.

About an hour later they embarked on their impromptu “date” and Brian had no idea what Justin’s idea of a date would be. Brian assumed that Justin would take him to the Met, MoMa or the Guggenheim, with which he had no problems whatsoever – he liked museums. The thing was that none of those places required him to change out of his business attire; museums didn’t exactly frown on men wearing Armani. So, Justin’s request to wear casual clothes somewhat surprised him as did the rest of the day.

Instead of going to a museum, Justin took Brian to an art fair that was set up in a warehouse that was being remodeled. Apparently, the owner of the building allowed The Village Art Alliance to take over two floors of the empty building for the week for this one-time art installation. There were close to 50 artists of all ages from children to adults presenting their works in every medium from drawing, painting, sculpture, glassblowing to papier mâché. Brian didn’t really care for about half of what he saw and neither did Justin, but they both thought that the overall experience was worth the $10 ticket price. Surprisingly, Brian found himself having fun, especially when Justin and he found something truly awful and took turns coming up with clever ways to make fun of the art piece without anyone else around them realizing they were doing so. In the end they made a game of it, which Brian won being a brilliant ad man. They spent two hours at the art fair without realizing it.

The rest of the date was just as enjoyable and somewhat surprising. Next Justin bought Brian an incredible cup of coffee at a tiny independent coffee shop that had no seating of any kind, because what space wasn’t taken up by the sales counter was devoured by an enormous, shiny, copper coffee roaster, which was apparently used to roast coffee beans daily.

“Fuck, I don’t know how I’ll stomach Starbucks after this!” Brian complained loudly. Justin just smiled sweetly and offered to buy him another cup of the delicious brew.

Sufficiently caffeinated, they made their way to an arcade of all places. Apparently, the owner was obsessed with antique pinball machines. He started collecting and restoring them years ago, later branching out to other arcade games from the 70’s and 80’s, and eventually opened this place. Brian was amazed – he hasn’t seen, let alone played most of these games since childhood. In fact, the only truly happy memories of his early childhood before he moved to the Pitts and met Mikey, were of the hours he spent at an arcade down the street from home. Some of his best memories from high-school years were of hanging out at an arcade similar to this one (except without the antiques), where he played game after game, while Mikey read Captain Astro comic books to him out loud. Brian felt like a kid again and another hour and a half passed with surprising speed, as Justin and he competed again each other for the highest score on the more familiar to them games and then tried out the antique pinball machines.

After that they were suddenly in a hurry, but Justin refused to say why. They took a cab to a Moroccan Restaurant that according to Justin was the best in New York. Unsurprisingly, it was another tiny, hole-in-the-wall place that looked less than promising on the outside. But Brian decided to trust Justin and was glad he did, for the food was indeed the best in Moroccan fare he has ever tried in his life.

The quick service was in their favor because unbeknownst to Brian, Rita got a pair of free tickets to a production of “Much Ado About Nothing” at the Delacorte Theater that did Shakespeare in the Park and gave them to Justin to use on his “date” with Brian. Neither one of them have been to one of these productions in Central Park before and wanted to experience it at least once. They took another cab and made it with minutes to spare for the 8 pm curtain.

Needless to say, that with Patrick Stewart being one of the actors, the production was outstanding and they discussed it all the way to their next destination, which was a narrow, dark and smoky bar that (in Brian’s opinion) stocked every kind of whiskey known to man and had a solo musician who standing on a postage stamp-sized stage played excellent jazz on a saxophone. When Brian looked at Justin in surprise at his choice of drinking establishment, Justin blushed brightly enough to be noticed even in the dim light and said:

“You once mentioned that you liked jazz. I found this place by accident my first week in New York and immediately thought of you. So I remembered it. We don’t have to stay here, Brian…”

“Are you fucking kidding me? We are staying for at least one drink, Sunshine, this place is great!”

After a couple of drinks of a rare scotch, which Brian insisted on buying, and listening to the sax player do a nice version of Monk’s “’Round Midnight,” they left the bar.

“It’s, ha-ha, ‘round midnight,” Brian said, tongue-in-cheek. “Where to now, Justin?”

“Well, we have two choices - we can dance upright at a club or horizontal in my bed. Up to you.”

“Bed.”

~*~*~*~

They’ve been asleep for about an hour when a loud wail woke them up at 3 AM on the dot. Justin groaned and got out of bed, pulling on a pair of sleep pants as quickly as possible. Before Brian could figure out what happened Justin was out the door, quietly urging Kirill to go back to bed. Curious, Brian put on his jeans with the top button left unsnapped and followed Justin down the hall presumably towards Niki’s room.

As Brian walked in, soft music poured out of the speakers and he vaguely recognized it as a Coldplay tune. He watched Justin unobserved for a minute as he started slowly swaying to the rhythm of the song, holding Niki close against his chest and quietly singing along with Chris Martin.  
  
 _“…You say, ‘Oh, sing one we know’,_  
But I promise you this,  
I'll always look out for you,  
That's what I'll do…”

Astonishingly, Niki began to quiet down almost immediately and with a couple of sniffles snuggled in Justin’s arms as he continued to slow dance and sing.

“… _My heart is yours,_  
It's you that I hold on to,  
That's what I do…”

“Coldplay?” Brian asked his surprise evident in his whisper.

“Oh, yeah. Niki’s a huge Coldplay fan. He stops fussing and goes right to sleep when we play it, don’t you, Niki?” Justin said affectionately, as the little boy’s eyes began to droop closed.

Brian wasn’t a particular fan of Coldplay; their music left him…well, cold. But for some odd reason, watching Justin dancing and singing to Niki in a moonlit room made his heart stir in his chest with an unfamiliar longing, for what he didn’t know. He felt like doing something before this feeling turned him into an asshole. He walked up to Justin and before his brain fully registered his actions, he put his arms around the two blonds and started slow-dancing with them.  

“Well, that was pretty easy. Two songs?” Brian asked when at the end of “Yellow” Niki looked like he was pretty much out.

“We got lucky this time. Sometimes it takes an entire album.”

“Why are you putting him to sleep?” Brian wondered, as they continued to sway together.

“I live here rent free, Brian. I insist on helping everywhere I can – utilities, food, cooking, cleaning and, yes, child care. It’s the least I can do for the unbelievable place I live in and paint in. We take turns getting up when Niki wakes up crying. It wasn’t technically my turn, but I wanted to thank them for the theater tickets.”

“Makes sense,” Brian conceded as Justin continued to comfort Niki for another couple of songs.

Finally, the kid was 100% asleep. Justin turned off the music and eased Niki gently into his crib. They stood and looked at the sleeping boy together in the quiet.

“You are very good with him, Justin. All through dinner last night you took care of him pretty much yourself. You are like another parent. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was yours,” Brian whispered.

“You did!” Justin snickered, remembering Brian's surprising jealousy outside Pazzo's.

“Yeah, I did,” Brian admitted. “You want one, don't you? A kid, I mean.”

Justin thought for a couple of minutes, and then said, “No. I don't think so.”

“Why the fuck not? You'd be an amazing father!” Brian said, thoroughly shocking Justin.

“Thanks, Brian. It's just that I couldn't father a child and have someone else raise it, like you did with Lindsey and Melanie. I know that I would want to be involved every single day and would probably piss off the mothers in the process. As far as I know single people can't adopt. Actually, they probably can, but adoption is difficult enough for straight couples; I can't even imagine the difficulty for a single gay man. Besides, I just know myself enough to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would need a partner in order to be a good dad. There’s  three of us with Niki and it’s no picnic. I can’t imagine doing this by myself. I mean when I paint, I lose myself completely - I forget about time, food, my surroundings, pretty much everything. Do you know that I have to set an alarm sometimes when I paint, so that I wouldn't miss things like sleep and work? Now imagine if I had a kid and had to prepare for a show, like the one I have coming up in a couple of months – I'd lose myself in a cloud of paint fumes and the kid would be hungry, lonely and with a dirty diaper. Ideally, I would have a partner to share the load, but my luck in the relationship department has been for shit. Truthfully, relationships are just too much of a bother. Like I said yesterday, I don’t think I am cut out for them; at least not right now. So, no – kids aren't in the cards for me.”

“You've clearly given it some serious thought.” Brian was impressed, yet slightly shocked with Justin's argument.

“Living with a baby will do that to you.” Justin smiled. “I've thought a lot about this subject since moving in with the three of them. I've decided to get my 'parenting fix' while helping Kirill and Rita as much as I can. Get it out of my system, as it were.”

“I wouldn't be so sure that kids aren't in your future. You are forgetting one little detail, Sunshine, you are still pretty much a kid yourself and you have plenty of time to change your mind. I was 29 the night Gus was born, if you remember. You have years before you reach that point – you very well might meet the man of your dreams, your prince and future husband, who will give you everything your heart desires, kids included,” Brian whispered dramatically, while his own heart constricted in his chest at the thought.

“Well, Brian, you just actually proved my point. Because, you see, I've already met the man of my dreams, my ‘prince,’ quote-unquote. He doesn't do boyfriends, relationships, or marriage; so he will never give me any of that, nor would I ask that of him. The night we met that man told me that he never wanted children of his own, that he was just a sperm donor and that he wasn't planning on being involved in his son's life. He told me that he believes in fucking, not love. And, who told you that I even want a 'prince,' or a husband, or what my desires are, for that matter? By the way, I don't need nor want anyone to give me anything – accepting tuition money from my father was the last time I took a handout of any kind. I pay my way, Brian, as much as I can and whatever material things that I ‘desire’ I will earn my own damn self. The same goes for immaterial things, like success. The only thing I would ever ask of a partner would be his time and the only thing I would ever demand is honesty.”

“Not love? Not monogamy?”

“If love isn't given to you freely, then it isn't love anyway. As I said, Brian, love is a gift. Asking or begging for it is pointless, not to mention humiliating. As for monogamy... if I am not prepared to give that to a partner myself, then I would never ask for it in return.”

“You are 22, for fuck's sake! How do you know this at 22? It took most of my friends at least a decade longer to figure this shit out. I am 34 and I still don't know dick about relationships. It feels like I've finally got the concept of friendship down just a couple of years ago. You are right - I never meant to be involved with my son, to love him, but somehow I am, and I do. But I still haven't completely figured out this whole fatherhood thing and I've been a father for five years. You seem to have it down pat and Niki is barely 6 months old, and isn't even yours. I can honestly say that I've never met anyone like you in my life. You... you amaze me, Justin.”

It wasn't an “I love you,” but it was the most amazing declaration of genuine feeling that Justin has ever received from a lover. Ethan told him he loved him, but while it felt nice to hear at the time, Justin never felt it down to his very soul; and in the end Ethan's words proved to be false. A few other boyfriends tried to tell him they had feelings for him, but since he has never returned them, he usually ended the relationships before those feelings grew and turned serious, and before anyone got hurt.

So, to hear something like that from Brian, a person who shied away from any kind of outward demonstration of emotion, was simply incredible and almost overwhelming.

“Brian,” Justin didn't know what to say. He wanted to say so many things, but instinct told him that whatever was in his heart right at that moment would be way too much for Brian and would ruin one of the most romantic moments in his life. “Brian...”

“Shut up, Justin. Just... shut up and let's...” Brian was about to say 'fuck', but for the first time in his memory that word didn't seem appropriate at all and he was reluctant to use it. The word 'screw' wasn't much better and since 'making love' wasn't a part of his vocabulary, he used the next best thing, “let's go to bed.”

“Yes. Take me to bed, Brian,” Justin whispered, a flush of anticipation staining his face and his eyes shining with lust and utter happiness.

Their lips fused together and they somehow made it into Justin's bedroom by feel alone. After that Brian and Justin let their bodies take over the conversation – they were so much better at expressing and sharing emotion after all. They kept kissing the whole time, partly to keep each other as quiet as possible and partly because they couldn't stand losing the contact of each other’s lips and tongues. Their hands alternated between roaming each other’s overheated skin to interlacing together and holding on for dear life as their bodies rocked together in unison.

~*~*~*~

The next day they slept late, ate a leisurely breakfast and went back to bed for an hour or two. In the afternoon they went to MoMa to see a Rothko exhibit and walked around Central Park. Before Brian left for the airport, Justin brought up the subject of keeping in touch.

“Justin, I… I am just no good at…”

“What, relationships? I am not asking you for that, Brian. I am not asking you to love me, to commit to me or to promise me anything at all. I told you that I am not looking for a boyfriend at the moment myself. But we are good together when we meet. Damn good! We have a good time, we have fun, we laugh, we talk and we have out of this world sex, so why give that up for an entire fucking year?”

“Last time we tried to plan something it didn’t work out quite so well.”

“What are you saying – God or fate gave you cancer because you tried to plan a vacation with me in advance? That’s bullshit, Brian!”

“No, of course, I don’t believe that! I am not an idiot, Justin. I am just stating a fact, that’s all. But it is a bit on the weird side that we’ve been meeting by complete accident in different places around the fucking world on the same exact date for several years and the one time, THE. ONE. TIME we actually made plans to meet it all went to shit.”

“Fuck, fate, Brian! Besides, I am not trying to make concrete plans. All I am saying is that I don’t want to wait until August 23rd of next year before I see you again. All I am suggesting is that we exchange contact information and next time you are in New York you give me a call and I’ll do the same when I am in the Pitts. Between your clients and my visits home for the holidays we could see each other once every three months or so. In my book, fucking you four times a year is a heck of a lot better than once.”

“Well, when you are right, you are right. Here, take my card – it’s got all my work info on it. My personal cell is 555…”

Justin just handed Brian the piece of hotel stationery from Waldorf Astoria he had prepared the previous morning. A few minutes later, Brian kissed Justin one more time, slid into a cab and was on his way to the airport to catch a late night flight to Pittsburgh.

Justin stayed on the curb watching the cab drive away until he couldn’t distinguish its tail lights from a dozen other cars surrounding it. Then, he turned around and walked into the lobby of his building feeling so utterly sad, thinking about the amazing couple of days he spent with Brian. Then, suddenly, his spirit rose together with the elevator that was taking him to the top floor. In no time at all, he was walking into the apartment he shared with his friends, smiling hugely and thinking,

“Brian, I’ll see you same time, THIS fall.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and comments would be super appreciated!


	9. Three Weeks Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Three weeks after returning to Pittsburgh, Brian was having breakfast at the Liberty Diner with the usual contingent of friends, silently drinking coffee, staring off into space and thinking.

“I think I need to start dating.”

Brian wouldn’t have realized that he uttered that scary thought out loud if he didn’t get a face-full of lukewarm coffee and ice-cold water spewed from the mouths of Michael and Ted, respectively, who happened to be sitting opposite him in their usual booth.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you two?” Brian complained loudly, shuddering in disgust and doing his best to sop up the expelled liquid from his face and clothes with a bunch of napkins.

“Brian, sweetie, did you just say that you  _‘think you need to start DATING’_?” Emmett, who sat beside him, squeaked loudly, his eyes wide in disbelief. While his question was loud it didn’t attract as much attention as Brian feared – only a quartet of young queers sitting in the booth next to them paid attention to Emmett’s screech and turned around to observe them curiously.

However, what did bring the attention of the entire diner to their booth and to Brian himself was the crash of pink plate specials that slipped from the serving tray that an utterly stunned Debbie was holding in suddenly limp hands. She apparently heard the tail end of Emmett’s declaration and it shocked her so much that the normally capable waitress didn’t even notice that four plates full of food fell to the floor in a cascade of egg-white omelet, toast, fruit and other breakfast items.

“What exactly to you mean by DATING?” Debbie screeched louder than Emmett could ever dream of and disregarding the mess under her feet walked up to their table through a pile of blueberry pancakes.

Brian blanched, realizing that the diner had gone eerily quiet and that every eye and ear in the place was trained straight at him. Brian, not one to back down in any situation, even as uncomfortable and embarrassing as this one, decided to plow ahead.

“What do you think I mean, Deb? I’m sure you’ve heard of the concept – talking to someone, getting to know them before you fuck ‘em, perhaps over a meal of some kind. You know – dating? Didn’t you and Carl go on a couple of those before you did the nasty and shacked up together?”

“But, why?” Michael asked, completely bewildered.

“Honey, I thought… I thought you were healthy, I thought the doctor said you were cancer free!” Debbie wailed, then with a loud “Oh, my poor little boy!” she fell on Brian, crying and smothering him in a fierce hug.

“I  _am_  healthy and cancer-free, Deb! If I wasn’t, I’d be thinking about hospitals and treatments, not about dating, for fuck’s sake,” Brian said dryly, while trying to extricate himself from her vise-like grip rather unsuccessfully. “By the way, thanks for announcing to the entire fucking diner and Liberty Avenue by extension that I’ve had cancer, Mom,” he said sarcastically.

“You are? You really are OK?” Deb finally released her death grip on Brian’s neck and torso.

“Yes, Deb, I’m healthy, I promise. Just because I had an errant thought about giving dating a shot doesn’t mean that I am dying. And now that you’ve ‘outed’ me as having had cancer to all the gawking queens in this dump, no one on Liberty or the rest of the Pitts will be interested in dating me now that I am damaged goods. So the point is now moot and the subject closed, fuck you very much!”

“But, why?” Michael repeated in the same, shocked whisper.

“It doesn’t fucking matter why, Mikey. Forget it, OK?” Brian groused, more irritated than ever. The thought of food suddenly turned his stomach, so he threw down a twenty and stalked out of the diner without so much as a farewell to his still shocked friends.

He almost reached the ‘Vette that was parked half a block away when an unfamiliar voice called his name. He turned around and saw an attractive, well-built guy about his age, but with salt and pepper hair running towards him.

“Kinney!”

“What?”

“I’ll go out with you. I mean… would you like to … I want you to… Fuck, this isn’t coming out right! Just… Here’s my number, let’s go out.”

“Didn’t I fuck you once?”

“Yeah, a few years ago at the baths. Alex Wilder, nice to meet you.”

“Ah, I see… Thanks, but no thanks, Alex Wilder. I don’t want your fucking pity date!” Brian spat out, ignoring the proffered hand.

“It’s not pity, believe me. My mother is a breast cancer survivor. She went through hell, but never complained. Not once! You have to be a fucking strong individual to survive chemo, radiation, surgery and all the shit that goes along with it without complaining, especially when you have a fucking good excuse to do so. With the way people gossip around Liberty, I’m shocked as hell no one knew you were sick.”

“That’s because I never told anyone until after the fact. I wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of…”

“Seeing you weak? That’s just it - I doubt anyone would have seen you as such; least of all me. I’ve always thought you were a shallow asshole whose only skill was fucking and whose personality went skin deep.”

“Why the fuck do you want to go out with me then?”

“I don’t normally hang out at the diner. I’ve never really seen you around friends. And then one hears things about Kinnetik. Then the cancer revelation… It seems I was wrong about you. Seems you are more than ‘Brian fucking Kinney,’ the legendary asshole top who fucks you once and throws you to the side. I’d like to get to know the real you.”

“Huh, join the fucking club. I don’t even know who the fuck I really am anymore. So, when are we going out?”

“Tonight? What kind of food do you like?’

“You asked me out - surprise me. But just so you know, I don’t eat carbs after 7.”

“All right. Corner of Fuller and Tremont, right?” At Brian’s surprised expression, Alex laughed. “Oh, come on, Brian! Everyone on Liberty knows where the legend lives.”

“Riiiight.”

“So, I’ll see you at 7?”

“Sure, see you then.”

~*~*~*~

Alex rang the doorbell promptly at seven and after being suitably impressed with the loft, urged Brian to leave so that they could make their dinner reservation at 7:30. Alex’s choice of restaurant made Brian laugh out loud – it was a new “new age” restaurant not far from Liberty Avenue called Green Leaf. One would have to look very hard to find carbs on their “low-carb vegetarian” menu, half of which was strictly vegan. Their specials of the day were pretentiously named dishes inspired by the raw food movement, as their hemp-dressed waitress with long, severely braided hair, had announced.

After ordering their vegetarian stir-fries, Brian looked at Alex’s mischievous face and laughed again.

“OK. I admit I walked into that one.”

“No carbs after 7? Don’t give me that bullshit, Kinney!” Alex laughed good-naturedly.

“How do you think I keep my girlish figure?”

“You exercise like a fiend and fucking a lot doesn’t hurt, I’m sure.”

“Exercise, yes. Fucking - not as much as I used to. After starting my own company, my tricking has decreased drastically. I just don’t have as much time for fun anymore. As for the carbs, I’ll admit to indulging on occasion, but I do tend to avoid eating much of anything at night.”

“Alcohol doesn’t count?” Alex asked with a smirk.

“Never!” Brian responded in kind. After a couple of minutes of a strangely comfortable silence, Brian asked. “So, you do this a lot? The dating/relationship thing, that is.”

“You are talking about two different things. If you are talking about dating, then yes. If you are talking about relationships, then, sadly, no.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Brian asked, a slightly confused expression on his face, just as the waitress served them their orders.

“God, you really are a virgin in this area, aren’t you?” Alex asked incredulously once the waitress left. “Let’s just say I have a similar problem to you in a way. Your legend around these parts precedes you. So, when people on Liberty look at you, they see a phenomenal fuck and they don’t expect much else. As for me, what all my dates end up seeing is my profession. I might as well tell you now – I’m a psychiatrist.”

“Let me guess, as soon as your ‘dates’ hear that you are a psychiatrist they change their entire demeanor and become afraid you’ll start analyzing their every word and move.”

“Exactly! Things fizzle pretty quickly after that. God knows why I keep trying, but I do. I take it you won’t have the same problem?”

“Truthfully, I don’t care for psychologists, psychiatrists and others of your ilk. I personally don’t feel the need to spill my guts lying on someone’s couch, while paying 100 bucks per hour to be told absolutely nothing of value; at least nothing of value to me. But they do seem to help some people. I actually have a couple of friends who benefitted from psychological help. Besides, you can psychoanalyze me all you want, Alex Wilder, I don’t really give a shit.”

Alex wasn’t offended in the slightest; instead he was intrigued by Brian even more.

“OK. Can I ask you about the sudden desire to start dating?”

Brian looked at him with an ‘I-don’t-fucking-think-so’ expression and continued eating silently.

“Sorry. I am not trying to psychoanalyze you, I promise. I was just curious. You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.”

Brian suddenly sighed and then laughed sort of ruefully.

“That’s just it, I don’t think I could tell you, even if I wanted to. I don’t fucking know where that came from. Shocked the hell out of myself along with everyone else.”

“Sure you do, Brian. You just don’t want to admit it. But, it’s none of my business, so let’s shelve that. I’d like to give you one piece of advice, if I may, lying to yourself or avoiding the issue won’t make whatever it is go away,” Alex said quietly. Brian looked at him for a minute and then nodded curtly.

“That was that. Now, let’s do something fun. Let’s talk about your mother.” Brian’s absolutely horrified expression made Alex burst out laughing. “Sorry, Brian! That was a little bit of psychiatrist humor.”

“ _That_  was humor? Don’t quit your day job, Alex, you’ll never make it as a stand-up comedian. Nearly gave me a heart-attack…”

“I just couldn’t resist. The expression on your face was priceless!” Alex snickered. A minute later, he asked seriously, “I would like to know about Deb, though. You called her Mom, why is that?”

“Fine!” Brian said, suddenly, completely exasperated. “If you are so hard up for why I wanted to start dating, I’ll tell you. Practice, OK? Practice.”

“First of all, brilliant avoidance technique, though I truly wasn’t trying to pry. I was trying to get to know you – that’s what people do on dates. Secondly, practice? What exactly do you mean by that?”

Brian put his knife and fork down, pushed his plate away and took a big gulp of his white wine. He stayed silent for a couple of minutes, laid his elbows on the table and folded his hands together, gripping them tightly, then, suddenly, dropped his forehead onto his folded hands.

“I think I’ve met somebody,” he whispered.

“You think?”

“Fine. Fine! I  _have_  met somebody.  He makes me think of things I’ve never thought of my entire life. He makes me do things and say things that are normally completely out of character. I can’t stop thinking about him, but I have  _no idea_  how to do this. So, I had an errant thought of practice-dating and made the mistake of saying it out loud at the fucking Liberty Diner of all places.”

“Wow. How did you meet?”

“We met on Liberty Avenue, outside of Babylon five years ago. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. He’s not even my type – way too young, half a foot smaller than me, a skinny, blond twink. He was supposed to be just a trick that I’d forget as soon as I fucked him. But then I saw him again a year later – exactly a year later – in a hotel in London and I couldn’t resist. Five years later I still can’t resist.”

“Wait a minute… You’ve been in a relationship with this guy for five years and you think you need to ‘practice-date’? Why?”

“We haven’t been in a relationship! We… “ Brian sighed deeply and had a speculative look came into his eyes. “OK. We’re covered under the whole doctor-patient confidentiality, right?”

“Uhm… That would mean that I wouldn’t be your date anymore, but your psychiatrist and this will officially be a ‘session,’ in an unusual setting, but a session nonetheless.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on going to your office, Doc, and I refuse to pay you 100 bucks for listening to my dating woes.”

“I just heard Brian Kinney utter the phrase “dating woes,” I should be paying you. Speaking of paying, I charge $150 per hour, actually, but I’ll be perfectly fine with you buying me dinner,” Alex said with a smile.

“Shit, I think I’m in the wrong profession,” Brian quipped. “Fine, dinner’s on me, you are officially my shrink and this doesn’t go further than this table, capiche?”

“Even if I didn’t just become your ‘shrink’ – I hate that term, by the way – I am not some gossiping queen, Brian. Whatever you tell me will stay between us. I promise.”

“I can’t do this here. Let’s go to Woody’s, I need a real fucking drink.”

~*~*~*~

They finished their meal in complete silence and with surprising haste, both strangely eager to get on with the story. As attracted as Alex has always been to Brian and as much as he wanted to be fucked by him again, he realized that he wanted to understand the man more. This conversation was a golden opportunity to unravel an enigma and the empiricist in him couldn’t resist the temptation.

Brian, on the other hand, suddenly realized that he needed to talk to someone; someone outside the whole situation, who could look at his dilemma completely objectively and without judgment. As much as he loathed the idea of talking to a shrink, he thought that Alex might be his best bet when it came to getting an impartial opinion.

Less than half an hour later they were at Woody’s with a couple of shots of Beam and a beer each, ensconced in one of the deep booths in the back of the pub that provided a surprising amount of privacy. The two men slammed a shot of Beam in unison, then without further ado Alex leaned in closer towards Brian and quietly said,

“Now, tell me about…”

“Justin. His name is Justin.”

“Justin.”

Brian told Alex Wilder the whole story – London, Ibiza, Paris, aborted Costa Rica plans and New York. He told him about how easy everything was, how almost natural it all felt on their impromptu date in Paris and the one in New York. He told Alex how surprising it was to just relax and to have some fun without expectations. He told Alex about their inexplicably strong and enduring physical connection.

“I’ve always thought that variety was the spice of life, the more the merrier, that familiarity breeds contempt and all the other similar clichés when it comes to sex. Hell, I’ve lived by those precepts since hitting puberty and ‘one fuck per customer’ policy has worked for me quite brilliantly for years. Until I met Justin. Things have been… different since then. Fucking two or three guys in one night used to be the norm and I enjoyed it a great deal. Now, I can’t even think of anyone else when I am with him. When I’m back home, its business as usual, when I have the time. But tricking isn’t as satisfying as it used to be. The best I can say is that it gets the job done. Period. I seem to be doing a lot of comparing…” His voice trailed into nothing, as he drank the second shot of Beam in one gulp with a far-away look on his face.

Alex listened to Brian’s account with rapt attention, without uttering a sound or interrupting in any way. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to say something, to agree, disagree or make any kind of appropriate noise to show that he was listening. The truth was that he simply couldn’t. He sat there, floored and completely mesmerized by the vision of Brian Kinney completely head-over-heels in love with someone and _not_ realizing it at all. Alex desperately wanted to spell it out for him, but he was convinced that Brian wouldn’t believe him and more than likely would run the other way at the mere mention of the possibility. Alex knew that Brian was the kind of person that needed to realize it and accept it for himself; anything else would be dismissed as bullshit.

 _I have to tread carefully, very carefully,_  Alex thought, _I have to say_ something _that would make sense to him and would steer him in the right direction. Fuck! I can’t believe I’m sitting here, hearing this. This is equivalent to capturing Big Foot or making first contact with an intelligent alien life-form!_

A minute later, Brian’s gaze focused on Alex again and he continued as if there was no interruption.

“The whole familiarity thing… I haven’t seen him in  _two years_  when I saw him in New York three weeks ago, yet I remembered how he tasted, how he smelled, how his skin felt under my hands. I  _wanted_  to touch him where I touched him before. I  _had to_  make him moan and scream like I did before. I  _needed_  to put that look of complete ecstasy on his face like I did the last time. I…  _craved_ to experience that familiarity, to use that knowledge again. I’ve never wanted that with anyone else. Ever!  It’s the same in reverse – I actually looked forward to his touch, because he seems to know my body like no other. He makes me respond like no one else does. Why is that, Alex? How can that be? Familiarity - it’s supposed to be boring, isn’t it? It’s supposed to be ‘same old, same old,’ but it isn’t like that with him. That 'same-ness' is new and exciting every single time, somehow. I can’t explain it.”

“Why do you have to explain it?” Somehow Alex found his voice again and continued confidently, “Why does it have to make sense? Why does it have to fit some sort of pre-conceived notion in your mind? Yeah, clichés become clichés because more often than not they are based on something true, but that’s not universally the case. There are exceptions to everything, Brian. You must know that. It’s the same when it comes to relationships.”

“Relationships?”

“I hate to tell you this, Brian, but you have been in a relationship with this kid; a very unconventional, unusual, undefined, long-distance  _relationship_. From what you’ve told me, it’s more than just sex between you two and has been from the start. Well, maybe from when you met again in London, but its true in any case. Why are you hesitating to call it a relationship? You’ve always lived by your own rules. You’ve always done what you wanted. Why stop now? Relationship is just a word. It doesn’t have to be defined by hetero-normative standards, or by how your parents, friends, family, or anyone else define it. It seems that this strange, somewhat… amorphous relationship of yours seems to work and suits you both just the way it is. He isn’t asking you to label it or what you are to each other in any kind of way – be it boyfriend, lover or partner. He isn’t asking you for more than you can give. He isn’t asking you for a commitment, monogamy or a promise of any kind. He doesn’t expect you to do or be anything different than what you are.”

“I am already a different person with him. Looks like I am a different person away from him. I mean, look at me, Alex – I am on a fucking practice date! The idea of dating normally turns my stomach. Yet, here I am contemplating… God knows what, so that next time we meet I don’t inadvertently ruin it somehow.”

“From where I am sitting, you don’t need practice dates, because he isn’t asking you to change in any way. He likes you just the way you are…”

“He fucking loves me, Alex! He told me that _he loves me_. When someone says that to you they are asking you for  _everything_! What the fuck do I do with that, huh?”

“Are you saying that you are on this ‘practice date’ because you  _want_  to give him everything?”

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know! For the first time in my entire life I am completely at sea and I don’t know what I want or what to do.”

“Do you want to see him again?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he is brilliant, funny, talented, interesting, passionate, fun, easy to be with and around, not to mention smoking hot and an incredible fuck.”

“Sounds like you have some strong feeling for him too. So, why not see where they take you? As far as love goes, it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, Brian. He hasn’t given you an ultimatum of any kind. All he wants is to see you a bit more often than just once a year. So, why not do it? Why not do what you want and not ‘what’s expected’? Write your own rules, Brian, like you’ve always done and enjoy the ride.”

“What if I hurt him? What if…”

Before Brian could continue, Alex interrupted, “Life is too fucking short to waste it on what ifs, Brian. You should know that better than anyone. If this relationship of yours is to last any length of time in whatever form it is - even if you see each other only once a year for the next twenty years - more than likely you’ll hurt each other and more than once. It’s life, Brian, and it’s fucking messy. The question is, is he worth the risk?”

“Yeah, I think... No, I know he is.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you found this chapter a bit out of synch with the rest of the story, you aren't alone. I wrote it during a severe storm system that hit our area and left us without power for a couple of days. It was a weird time, I was in a weird place and this weird chapter came out. I decided to leave it as-is, without change. Hopefully, this won't turn you off, my gentle readers, from the rest of the story that is forthcoming. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Vin

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love and would be appreciated. Thank you for reading!


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